Eye of the Storm
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, and Boba Fett are stranded on Earth and must befriend a Star Wars fan club to survive.
1. Struck Down

Eye of the Storm  
  
Kenya Starflight  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course, I don't own the Star Wars characters, planets, and other stuff.   
  
I'm not that good!  
  
RATING: PG for violence and language  
  
Part 1 -- Struck Down  
  
The Force had been kind to this star system. The great Sith Wars, a historic milestone for most of the galaxy, were virtually unknown here. The more recent Clone Wars, likewise, had not touched these obscure planets. Nor had the ongoing Galactic Civil War engulfed the system, even as it raged horribly in nearly every other colonized sector of known space. For millennia this system's one hospitable world -- first by simple ignorance but later by enforcement -- had gone blissfully unknown, unmolested, and undisturbed.  
  
Until now.  
  
Between the inhabited third planet and the hostile fourth planet, two X-wing fighters and a small transport -- the Dawn Raider -- blinked into existence where empty space had once been. Telescopes and sensors from the world registered the starships' presence, to the flabbergasted surprise of those operating these tools. The shock of the pilots upon seeing the planet was no less intense.  
  
"What is this?" demanded the pilot of the Raider. "Commander Skywalker, you said these coordinates were supposed to take us to the rendezvous point!"  
  
"They were!" replied Luke in defense. He would have added that Han himself had given them to him so they had to be legitimate, but he caught himself. Most of the Rebellion didn't entirely trust Han, even though they respected his piloting skills -- enough to permit a small band of Rebels to infiltrate Jabba's palace and rescue him. The others had gone on to the rendezvous, but he had lagged behind to visit Yoda just before the Jedi Master's death. Now he was escorting a group of latecomers to the Rebel gathering -- and it looked as though they were going to be even later.  
  
"Mees'n thinking someone done scramble our coordinates," burbled Luke's fellow Rogue pilot, a Gungan called Trigger. The daughter of a former Naboo senator, she kept her real name secret, but her Rebel moniker was apt -- she was a crack shot, either with a hand weapon or behind starship controls.  
  
"Scramble? How?" demanded the Raider.  
  
Artoo beeped helpfully, and his suggestion appeared on Luke's computer display.  
  
"Remote scramble?" he repeated. "No civilian ship and almost none of the Imperial ships have that kind of technology."  
  
"An' there wasn' no 'perials when wesa hit lightspeed," added Trigger.  
  
"Well, someone warped the numbers," growled the Raider. "But who?"  
  
/Who indeed/ thought Luke as he hurriedly cleared his navicomputer and re-entered the coordinates. For one ship to alter the hyperspace coordinates of another would take technology so new even most of the Imperial fleet was without it. And their departure point had been vacant save the ruins of a long-abandoned pre-Republic space station.  
  
"Don't worry," Luke replied, trying to inject some cheer into the situation. "We'll just plot a new course and continue..."  
  
"Commander!" squealed Trigger. "Stardestroyer comin' in!"  
  
As she spoke, sudden blaster fire rocked his X-wing, barely deflected by his shields. He brought his ship around to face this sudden assault -- and was stunned to see over three dozen TIE fighters descend upon the trio of Rebel ships like a swarm of flies. Laser fire lanced greenly from their guns, surrounding them with a deadly rain of energy. Against the silvery orb of this planet's moon a sinister wedge-shaped shadow watched silently like an ambushing nexu. With shock Luke recognized the vessel -- the Super Stardestroyer Executor.  
  
"Vader," he breathed, cold terror washing over him like Hoth's winds. Horrid memories spilled, unbidden, into his mind's eye in a fragmented jumble -- the burning agony of losing his hand... the awful anticipation as a dying Yoda confirmed Vader's pronouncement... the Dark Lord beckoning to him, taunting, tempting, tantalizing...  
  
/I am your father./ Those four words had changed his life forever. He was still reeling from the blow of that revelation. And now, just after they had rescued Han from Jabba's slimy clutches, just before they went to face the second Death Star, just when things seemed to be finally looking up for the Alliance and himself, he had to face this mysterious beast again.  
  
Could he survive this encounter with soul and life intact?  
  
"Commander? What yousa say 'bout Vader?"  
  
"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Trigger, you're going to have to help me! Whatever happens, they can't shoot the Raider down!"  
  
"Copy, Commander!"  
  
Two TIEs darted to the transport's starboard side, attempting a classic pincer attack. Luke veered hard to his right and sprayed fire at the ships, then pulled up to avoid the resulting inferno.  
  
A stern voice crackled over his radio.  
  
"You have entered a restricted Imperial system. You are under arrest."  
  
Vader's familiar bass voice, hollow and somehow electronic, added a baleful warning.  
  
"Surrender, Commander Skywalker, and your companions may go free. Refuse, and you will watch them die."  
  
So the Empire HAD engineered this! But how? Then it hit him -- the space station! It hadn't been completely devoid of life after all! Someone must have hidden aboard the wreck, waited until they'd entered the sector, and altered their coordinates -- sending them directly into the jaws of this trap.  
  
A third TIE swooped in front of his viewscreen in a blatant head-on maneuver. Luke launched a torpedo at it and corkscrewed away as it exploded. Trigger streaked by, hot on the tail of an Interceptor. Then two more ships charged Luke, and he had to concentrate on avoiding their fire.  
  
"Watch it, Commander! Yous'n got one on your tail!"  
  
Luke didn't need to turn and look to know it was Vader's customized TIE fighter pursuing him. The Dark Lord's presence glowed darkly in his mind like a pillar of cold fire. He knew he was in no danger of being shot down -- Vader wanted him alive.  
  
"Commander, I've plotted a course from here to the rendezvous!" the Raider informed him.  
  
"Make the jump," Luke ordered. "Trigger, go with them."  
  
"No! No! Mees'n stay!"  
  
"Just go! I'll follow you!"  
  
"We'll send help!" promised the Raider, and with that the transport and X-wing streaked into hyperspace.  
  
His X-wing thrashed from a blaster impact. Alarms wailed as the fighter tumbled into the planet's atmosphere. Luke struggled to regain control of the ship, to stay his fall.  
  
Suddenly the ship's descent was checked with a massive jerk. His head slammed into the console, splitting his flight helmet open. He blacked out.  
  
Behind him, a vertical oblong starship slowly descended toward the planet's surface, holding the battered X-wing in the iron grip of its tractor beam. Vader's TIE followed the Slave, keeping a watchful eye on their prize. High-tech cloaking devices kept the two ships and their prey nearly invisible to the planet's detection systems.  
  
On the world's surface, those who had witnessed these events found various ways to explain them. Some would blame a bizarre hardware glitch. Others would chalk it up to a meteor storm or solar flare. A few would call it an elaborate prank.  
  
None suspected or even considered the truth.  
  
***  
  
In Austin Powers' home, the Galactic Civil War was the last thing on his mind. At the moment he had a civil war of his own on his hands.  
  
"This isn't fair, Melissa," he protested, arms folded before him in a gesture of firmness. "The divorce papers clearly state that I get Trapper for the entire summer. You've already cut three weeks from our time, and you were a day late dropping him off. Now you want to ax another two weeks?"  
  
"We had problems getting here," his ex-wife replied with a toss of her cinnamon-colored pixie cut. "And I'm not denying Trapper time with his grandparents to goof off with you. He sees too little of them, and this July is his only chance to see them before they move to England in August."  
  
"I don't blame you for being late," Austin replied. "Airport security is tight nowadays. I can understand the toy blaster in Trapper's backpack causing a delay. But if you wanted him to see your folks one last time, why didn't you plan that in May?"  
  
"It's too late for that," she said brusquely. "He has to come back by July 19, no later. If you can't agree to that, send him back out and we'll go home."  
  
The two locked eyes, both refusing to give an inch in this battle of wills. Melissa Lauren Greenwood, looking every bit the stubborn corporate tiger she was, was nearly a foot and a half shorter than Austin Owen Powers, her normally laid-back devil-may-care ex-husband. None would guess by a mere glance that she was the stronger of the pair. And the fact that Austin was currently wearing a Darth Vader costume at the moment in  
  
preparation for a party only heightened the absurdity of her advantage. He would probably lose this battle, and he knew it, but he refused to give in without a valiant last stand.  
  
"Let's be fair, Melissa," he pleaded. "This is about Trapper, not us. Let's think about what's best for him."  
  
"Exactly. That's why he needs to come home early and..."  
  
"What I meant was we should ask him and do what he wants."  
  
That caught her off guard, but she swiftly formed a counterattack. "Of course he's going to want to stay with you. He's a nine-year-old boy. He's going to want to stay here and play all the time. But what he wants and what's best for him are two entirely different things, Austin!"  
  
"And forcing him back and forth all summer and telling him his opinions don't matter is best for him?" Austin inquired blandly.  
  
Despite his neutral tone, that comment only struck her fuse. "All right, fine! Let me in! I'm taking Trapper home!"  
  
"He IS home!" Austin countered, placing an arm across the doorway to bar her entry.  
  
She glared at him, determined to get by. He knew he couldn't argue with her anymore without risking his time with his son. Melissa was no bluffer; if he continued to fight, she would drag Trapper onto the next flight back to Chicago. It was time to surrender.  
  
"Just go, Melissa," he told her quietly. "Trapper'll come home on the 19th. I'll call if there's a problem."  
  
Her expression crowed victory, but her voice remained gruff. "See you then," she said in farewell, turning back to her cab.  
  
It took all his willpower to avoid slamming the door. He was so tired of it all. So he hadn't been a perfect father or husband during their marriage. Big whoop. It wasn't entirely his fault. She'd played a hand in their split. And she had no right to punish him by tampering with the visitation like this. It couldn't be healthy for Trapper.  
  
"Trapper!" he called, walking into the living room. It was cluttered, of course, as it always was when Trapper was around. Delightfully messy. How he missed tripping over neglected toys and other paraphernalia when Trapper was at his mom's house. Unfortunate that she had moved so far away after the divorce.  
  
He would have moved along with them, to keep close to his son, but other obligations tied him to Star City, a small city in the Rocky Mountains. His job with the newspaper and his leadership of a small-time Star Wars fan club couldn't just be dropped like so many rocks. Besides, the fan group was like a family to him and Trapper. And what would summers be like if he and Trapper missed out on Stellar-Con and Nova-Con, the two conventions Star City played host to every year?  
  
"Trapper!" he called again, not seeing the boy right away. Action figures littered the floor, petrified in some sort of imaginary space war. A Jango Fett figure clutching a lightsaber lay on the arm of the couch, and a miniature Vader costume, Trapper's last birthday present, was strewn on the couch's seat. The TV was on and blaring something about a satellite malfunction that was wreaking havoc on telescopes nationwide. A Harry Potter novel and a Spiderman comic book had been kicked under the coffee table, and the Playstation controls were tangled on the floor.  
  
He found Trapper in the corner, busy attacking the shield generator on the Star Wars Trilogy arcade game Austin had purchased from a pool hall that had gone out of business. That spelled trouble. Trapper only played that game when he was upset.  
  
"Hey Mini-V," Austin greeted, tousling his son's hair. "Why don't we quit the game and get some dinner before the party at Pat and Jason's?"  
  
No reply.  
  
"I hear you and your mom had an adventure getting here," he tried again. "Sorry about your blaster. I'll buy you a new one."  
  
Trapper plucked a token from the end table and jammed it into the coin slot as if he hadn't heard him.  
  
"What's wrong, Mini-V? Nexu got your tongue?"  
  
Silence. Then he replied quietly, "I don't like it when you and Mom fight."  
  
Austin sighed. Blunt but honest. Children tended to be like that.  
  
"Well, Trapper, I don't like it either. And I'd do anything to keep it from happening again."  
  
Three stormtroopers fell under Trapper's assault. "I don't want to go to Grandma's. I want to stay here with you."  
  
"I'm flattered, but your grandparents will want to see you before they move." He hated himself for playing devil's advocate, but he wanted to soften the blow for Trapper. "I'm sure they miss you..."  
  
"Grandpa doesn't even know I'm there half the time, he's so drunk. And Grandma's always complaining about me! She says I got all your bad genes." He fired at a fleeing scouttrooper, missed, and winced as the trooper's parting shot drained his energy level.  
  
"Really? I didn't realize that. I'm really sorry, but there's not a lot I can do about that."  
  
"I know, but I still don't want to go. It means I'm going to miss Nova-Con."  
  
"But you'll still be able to attend Stellar-Con with me."  
  
"Nova-Con's always better."  
  
"Look, Mini-V," Austin told him, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, "I'm sorry about Nova-Con. But neither of us can change it. So let's not let it ruin the rest of our summer, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Trapper said hesitantly.  
  
"Now what sounds good for dinner? I was thinking Chinese."  
  
"Gross!" Trapper complained, sounding more like the Trapper Austin knew and loved.  
  
"Oh, too bad. Then I guess we have to settle for Jabba the Hutt -- I mean Pizza Hut."  
  
"Pizza Hut? Yeah!" He abandoned the game and ran for the couch. "I'll get dressed."  
  
"You do that. Then we'll grab a bite to eat and head over to Pat and Jason's for the pre-Con party. It'll be the best one yet, I'm sure."  
  
He smiled fondly as the game screen flashed GAME OVER. If his time with his son was limited, he'd make sure every moment of it counted. 


	2. Marooned

Part II -- Marooned  
  
In a thick wilderness area, a battered X-wing fighter lay crookedly on the moss-furred forest floor. To the side, a Firespray-class starfighter lowered a customized TIE fighter with its tractor beam. Lacking landing gear of any kind, it was nearly impossible for a TIE to land on or take off from a horizontal surface.  
  
Once the second fighter was safely down, the Slave settled to the ground close by. The occupants of both vehicles climbed out of their respective ships, Fett pulling a toolbox from his cockpit, Vader striding purposefully toward the X-wing. The transparisteel canopy sprang open, seemingly of its own accord, and Vader pushed it farther open to get at the unconscious pilot. The ship's onboard Artoo unit screamed electronically and uttered a string of insults and warnings as the Dark Lord pulled Luke from the vehicle.  
  
Fett looked up from the X-wing's engines. "Hyperdrive disconnected and fuel cells drained," he informed Vader, his voice grating from his throat like gravel. "He's not going anywhere."  
  
"Good," Vader replied, his own voice echoing eerily through his mask. "Dispose of the hyperdrive generator. We must take no chances."  
  
Fett hefted the unit in both arms and disappeared with it. There was a tremendous splash, then the bounty hunter returned, his armor flecked with moisture. Evidently there was a river nearby.  
  
Vader motioned for Fett to watch over Luke's body. He returned to the TIE and activated the comm, keying it to the Executor's frequency.  
  
"I have secured Skywalker and will be taking him on board the Executor shortly," he intoned. "Prepare for my arrival."  
  
"Yes, my lord," Admiral Piett replied. "I believe you should know that the Emperor has left a message. He wishes you to report to Death Star II as soon as possible..." Then a sudden flurry of static drowned the Admiral out.  
  
"Admiral!" Vader barked.  
  
"...losing you!" Piett replied amidst more bursts of comm disruption. "I'm attempting... alternate frequency..." And his voice petered out as the TIE's comm shut down, fuel cells exhausted.  
  
Vader slammed his metallic right fist into the TIE's plating, leaving a dent deep enough to serve as a banquet tureen. What fool had neglected to fit his comm with fresh cells while readying Vader's TIE? When he got back to the Executor, someone was going to pay dearly for this error. Making a mental note to check the duty rosters, he joined Fett in his watch over the captured Rebel.  
  
Fett exchanged a silent look with the Sith Apprentice, a look that spoke volumes. The hunter was in no way loyal to or afraid of Vader, and he fully expected to be paid for his involvement in capturing Skywalker. He had already received partial payment -- the remote hyperdrive coordinate scrambler he'd used to misdirect the Rebel party was his to keep. But a more lucrative bounty had been promised for his continued participation, and he intended to collect it at all costs.  
  
Vader nodded in mute acknowledgment. Of course Fett would receive his payment. Despite his murderous reputation, Vader was a man of honor. And Fett was quite deserving of that honor, having completed several seemingly impossible missions for the Dark Lord, survived many attempts on his life, and escaped from the gullet of the supposedly invincible Sarlaac.  
  
Skywalker, too, deserved respect. Despite beginning his training so late in his life, he had an impressive command of the Force. Also, he had not only almost single-handedly destroyed the Death Star, he had consistently eluded capture for nearly four years in spite of having one of the largest prices in the galaxy on his head. And to top it off, if Fett's testimony proved correct, he had killed Jabba the Hutt, the galaxy's most  
  
notorious gangster. Vader smiled darkly behind his mask at the unconscious young Jedi. Yes, this young man would prove to be an excellent disciple of the dark side.  
  
/If you can turn him./  
  
Firmly he squelched that traitorous thought. There was no "if." Luke would turn or die. There was no third option.  
  
"Bind him," he ordered Fett. "Strip him of all weapons. We'll use your ship to return to the Executor."  
  
"As you wish," Fett replied.  
  
The hunter would never admit it, of course, but he obviously did not relish spending more time on this planet than necessary. This system, simply defined as Area 51 on most galactic maps, was one of the most legendary (if least explored) Imperial-owned systems in the galaxy. Starships were known to wander into the system and never return, and spacers who survived the journey out rarely escaped without some wondrous, bizarre tale about what they had encountered. Some claimed the sector was a haven for refugee Jedi; others reported weird creatures and mysterious phenomena. The Republic hadn't exactly discouraged jaunts through the area, but they made it clear that pilots traveling the system did so at their own risk. The Empire outlawed all space travel in this region, but there was still the occasional daredevil or shortcut-seeker who slipped through, sometimes living to tell the tale, other times not.  
  
Vader was not one for regarding foolish rumors. And at any rate, they would not be here long. Once they had Skywalker aboard the Slave...  
  
An ominous hiss attracted their attention, and they turned to see the Artoo unit sitting at the Slave's computer jack. Evidently the droid had made his way out of his X-wing socket and had been sitting at the input point for some time, spewing useless information and conflicting commands into the Slave's main computer. Before either  
  
man could act, the computer core overloaded and blew, belching a geyser of gray smoke like a tombstone before expiring with a fading whine.  
  
/No!/ Vader screamed mentally as he stared helplessly at the ship that was now little more than a glorified scrap heap, useless without its computers. How could this happen? Everything had gone according to plan. Luke was in his clutches. The Rebellion was flying into a trap on Endor, happily unaware that they were on the cusp of  
  
extinction. And now... they were shipwrecked on the one world that made Tatooine look like a distinguished Core planet.  
  
/Perhaps it's for the best./  
  
Furiously he crushed the notion. Where were these contrary thoughts coming from?  
  
Fett drew his blaster in anger.  
  
"Save your fire!" Vader ordered. "It is too late."  
  
Reluctantly he lowered the weapon, but he radiated fury like a leaking reactor.  
  
The droid tootled merrily as it turned its dome to regard the two men, as if to say "What are you going to do about it? Send me back to my X-wing without supper?"  
  
"Blasted droid," raged Fett.  
  
***  
  
A few dozen miles away from the landing site, a Boba Fett impostor was every bit as irritated as the real deal.  
  
"A little to the left!" a snowtrooper wannabe advised him. "No, that's crooked too. Right then. Ohh, that's even worse!"  
  
Jason sighed in exasperation and looked down from his attempts to hang a mirror-encrusted paper-mache model of a TIE fighter from the center of the warehouse ceiling. "Emily, you are royally tickin' me off, ya know? Will you shut up and let me hang this thing or ya wanna come up and do it yourself?"  
  
Emily stared up the ladder at him. "What, a big tough man like you can't do something as simple as hang a disco ball?"  
  
"I never said I couldn't," he shot back. "But if you think you're so much better at it than me, I'll get down and let you have a shot at it."  
  
"Nah, I prefer to watch you make an idiot out of yourself," she replied smugly. "You might wanna tweak it just a little so it hangs... whoops! Nose dive!"  
  
"Just shut up or you're gonna be wearing this thing!"  
  
"And ruin your brother's beautiful artwork?" She feigned dismay. "Honestly, I am appalled that you would so readily destroy the product of three days of Patrick's hard work!"  
  
"I told you to --"  
  
"Knock it off already!" shrieked Liz from the DJ table. "Geez, can't you two be civil for two consecutive seconds? You fight like Han and Leia!"  
  
"He started it," Emily claimed at the same time Jason insisted "She started it."  
  
"Place is looking nice," noted Patrick as he entered the building carrying a dripping cooler. The front of his Jango Fett armor was slick with moisture. He set the cooler down by the refreshment table, propped it open, and pulled off his water-saturated gloves.  
  
"Yeah, no thanks to these two," Liz grumbled. She unhooked her Zam Wessel veil so Patrick could actually hear her. When Liz wasn't yelling, which was rare, her veil tended to muffle her words. "All the refreshments ready?"  
  
Patrick grunted ascent. He hadn't gotten many of the vocal genes in the family.  
  
"What was that? I didn't hear you!"  
  
"Take off the headphones," suggested Jason.  
  
"You can it!" Liz snapped.  
  
"I said yes," Patrick replied.  
  
"You would be able to hear him better if you at least lowered the volume on your Walkman, Liz," Emily pointed out. "Besides, it can't be good for your hearing to have 'Best of ELO' playing in your ears at max volume 24-7."  
  
"They're my ears, not yours," Liz shot back.  
  
"Everything's in shipshape!" announced Steve, peering out from behind a speaker. "Sound system, players, karaoke, lights, everything's hooked up and running. Place looks like a raging geek's pipe dream. Snacks're hot or cold as needed. All that's missing are the guests." He turned to Emily. "My makeup smeared?"  
  
She scrutinized his Darth Maul makeover carefully. "Nope. Still can't understand why you don't just wear a mask and avoid the hassle of face paint, contacts, rubber horns, and shaving your head."  
  
"'Cause I like authenticity."  
  
"If that's so, just get your whole face tattooed," retorted Amethyst as she appeared from behind the second speaker, hands folded across her scouttrooper breastplate.  
  
Steve laughed. "Thought about that, but I have a phobia of needles."  
  
"So who's still missing?" inquired Jason, giving the disco TIE a final nudge before nodding in satisfaction.  
  
"Liberty, Sparky, Zack, the Church family, the other four Troopers, and our fearless leader," Steve replied. "Hope Austin brings his kid. The tyke's a lot of fun."  
  
"He's not a tyke," Patrick corrected as he poured a bag of Salsa Verde Doritos into a bowl.  
  
"That's right; he's nine now!" Emily said wonderingly. "He's growing up so fast. Too bad about Austin's split with Melissa. She wasn't half bad."  
  
"Where have you been this last eon?" demanded Liz. "Melissa divorced Austin four years ago!"  
  
"And besides, we're the reason she divorced him," Amethyst added, jabbing her chest with her thumb. "She couldn't handle us rabid Stargeeks, so she flew the coop."  
  
"Too bad," Emily replied sadly. "She had the makings of a true fan if she'd only opened her mind to the saga."  
  
"You just want her to come back 'cause you think she's hot," Steve teased.  
  
Emily punched his shoulder. "Do not!"  
  
"You two are truly disgusting," Jason griped as he descended the ladder. "Bad enough that you're both gay, but you don't have to rub it in at every opportunity."  
  
"Just 'cause you're homophobic..." began Steve.  
  
"Am not!" Jason protested. "But do you see the rest of us broadcasting our sex lives?"  
  
"True Star Wars fans have no sex lives," Zack announced as he entered the warehouse, his Count Dooku robes flowing behind him. "Don't wanna risk lip-locking with a long-lost sib."  
  
"That makes seven of us!" Jason noted. "Leaves... lemme think... eleven to go 'fore the whole fan club's here."  
  
"You can count to eleven?" Emily gasped. "That's a new record, Jason! You've been practicing, haven't you?"  
  
"Bite me!" Jason snapped. 


	3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind

Quick Author's Note: No, the Austin in this story is not the Austin Powers in the Mike Myers movies. It was just the first name to pop into my head and I didn't recognize it right off the bat. Didn't find out the mistake until someone pointed it out and by then it was too late to go back and change it. My bad.  
  
Part III -- Close Encounter of the Third Kind  
  
Luke roused, his head throbbing as if a Gamorrean thug had buried his vibroax in his skull and left it there. He gingerly opened his eyes, but had to close them again when the bright sunlight inflamed his headache. He recalled striking his head on his X-wing's console, but nothing after. Most likely he'd crash-landed somewhere, though how he'd come out of the wreck with nothing more than a migraine was mind-boggling.  
  
Someone was kneeling beside him, tightening cords around his wrists. Alarmed, he cracked one eye open. The familiar battle-scarred helmet, its bearer invisible behind the T-slit visor, stunned him.  
  
"Boba Fett?" he whispered in amazement. How could he be alive?  
  
"You are awake, Skywalker."  
  
That voice... hard, resonant, mechanical...  
  
A pair of black boots stood by his head, a long sable cloak swaying behind them. Luke's eyes crept up the armored shins, taking in the leather-garbed body, the control-laden belt, the powerful gauntleted hands and the massive shoulders and chest, bearing glossy ebony-colored armor and a droid-like chest panel respectively. The man's breath hissed and whooshed like a hollow wind through his skeletal mask, a mask that formed a crude, shattered parody of a human face. Light arced from the domed helmet and played across the angles and planes of the mask in bizarre patterns.  
  
/He's more machine now than man/ Obi-wan had said. Had the old Jedi told Luke this to convince him his father was no longer human? Did old Ben truly believe that, that there was no man beneath that armor to redeem and therefore no reason to spare his life? Luke had once believed the Dark Lord to be nothing more than a murderous beast, but now, though he feared the Sith's anger and power, he felt an odd pity for him. What  
  
tragedy had broken apart his body like this? What horrible event had reduced him to being "more machine than man?"  
  
"On your feet, Skywalker," Vader demanded.  
  
Luke managed the task only with a lot of grunting and squirming -- having his hands bound made it difficult to get up. Then he wondered why he'd bothered standing at all, for Fett clobbered him alongside the head with the butt of his blaster and sent him sprawling. Agony blinded him for a moment, and Vader's angry shout rang painfully through his skull.  
  
"You'll not do that again, bounty hunter!"  
  
"For... my... ship..." Fett sounded like he was choking on something as he defended himself.  
  
When his vision cleared, Luke was treated to the incredible sight of Fett, booted feet a good handspan off the ground, back pressed to a tree, Vader's fist clutching his throat. The hunter groped at the gloved hand, trying desperately to loosen the Dark Lord's strangling grasp. Vader watched his futile efforts disdainfully, then drew close to him until his mask was mere centimeters from Fett's visor.  
  
"If you threaten Skywalker again, in any way, I'll finish what the Sarlaac began," he hissed dangerously.  
  
Abruptly Fett fell to the ground in a heap, his frantic gasps audible through his helmet as he gulped in air. Vader spared him a contemptuous glare before returning to Luke's side. Luke writhed to his feet again and met Vader's gaze as calmly as he was able.  
  
"The Emperor seems to have underestimated you, Skywalker," Vader noted. "Your capture proved all too easy."  
  
Luke craned his neck to peer around Vader. Three ships sat in the clearing -- his X-wing, wires trailing from its rear to mark where vital equipment had been gutted from it; Vader's TIE, looking very much like a bird with broken wings as it lolled awkwardly on the uneven ground; and Fett's Slave, smoke or steam issuing from its engines in thin ribbons. He couldn't suppress an amused smile as he turned back to the Dark Lord.  
  
"So you've captured me. Will you take me to your ship now?"  
  
"Someone should have taught you not to be flippant," Vader snarled, holding a cautionary finger before his face. "Our intended transport has suffered damage." He inclined his head toward the Slave. "You can thank your blasted droid for shipwrecking us."  
  
Artoo tootled merrily from a nearby tree, which he had been strapped to with a plasteel tow cable.  
  
"What about my X-wing? We can all fit in there if we squeeze."  
  
Vader eyed him suspiciously. "One would almost think you wanted to face the Emperor."  
  
"I'm only asking why, if the Emperor wants me so badly, haven't you taken me to him yet?" He wanted to believe that Vader didn't have the heart to turn his own son over to his master. That would be some proof -- a mere shred, but still proof -- that there was still some vestige of good in his father.  
  
"Our friend here," Vader replied, nodding at the panting bounty hunter, "has removed your ship's hyperdrive and drained your fuel cells. It is currently inoperable."  
  
Oh. So much for that theory.  
  
"Why don't you untie my hands?" Luke offered. "I won't be able to run from you anyway, since all our ships are grounded."  
  
"True," replied Vader, nodding. "But you could attempt to destroy us and contact your Rebel friends. Not that it would do you much good. Imperial communications barriers prevent unauthorized transmissions from entering or leaving this system."  
  
"Then you'll untie me?"  
  
"No. Your friends may come looking for you. Until I decide otherwise you will remain bound."  
  
Luke hoped against hope that Han and Leia wouldn't attempt any heroics to rescue him. With Imperials in this system, it wouldn't be wise to stage a rescue. Better he die than untold numbers of Rebels be captured or slain.  
  
Vader paced slowly, considering. He removed a chrome-plated cylinder from his belt and caressed it thoughtfully with his thumb. It was Luke's lightsaber, the one he had crafted to replace the weapon he had lost on Cloud City. He ignited the blade, examining the brilliant green rod of energy it emitted, studying the grips and seams as if checking for flaws in the design.  
  
"I see you have constructed your lightsaber," he mused. "You are indeed powerful. More powerful than I anticipated." He met Luke's gaze. "You will prove to be an excellent student of the dark side."  
  
"I won't turn," Luke declared with more bravado than he felt, "and you'll be forced to kill me."  
  
"If that is your destiny..." Vader began, then broke off and turned abruptly.  
  
Luke followed his gaze and saw the cause of the interruption.  
  
A young boy, no older than eight or nine standard years, stared wide-eyed at them. He was dirty from head to toe, with wild auburn hair and knees well-worn from hard play. He wore mottled blue-white pants with metal studs at the corners of the pockets and a simple dark short-sleeved shirt printed with the logo "Spongebob Squarepants." He stared, captivated, at the lightsaber like an insect hypnotized by a lit candle. Then his gaze went to Vader, then Luke, then Fett, then the three incapacitated ships, and his expression became a mixture of wonder and terror.  
  
Before Luke or Vader could say anything, the boy turned and ran back into the woods yelling "Mooooommmmm!!!"  
  
"By the Maker," Vader whispered in stunned awe, "the survey was wrong. This planet is inhabited." 


	4. Dazed and Confused

Part IV -- Dazed and Confused  
  
Fett approached and stood by Vader's side, having recovered from the Dark Lord's rebuke. "So this rock's populated. What does that mean?"  
  
"It means there could very well be a spaceport or other means of leaving the planet nearby," Vader replied. "Or an ally who can arrange our transport to Imperial Center."  
  
"Impossible," Fett said skeptically. "This system is too heavily guarded for anyone to establish a port without the Empire's knowledge."  
  
"Outposts have sprung up on all sorts of restricted worlds," the Rebel pointed out. "Why not this one?"  
  
Vader stared off into the trees in the direction the boy had fled. "It is doubtful the child would travel deeper into the forest. Most likely he has returned home. Therefore, we shall come across civilization if we travel in his tracks." He gestured toward the astromech. "Cut the droid loose, Fett. Watch it closely. We may need it. You will remain with me," he told the Rebel menacingly.  
  
Fett untied the droid and stalked after Vader and their charge, grinding his teeth in barely suppressed fury. His rage roared within him like a blood-crazed acklay, as turbulent as the Kaminoan seas. Normally Fett was the master of his emotions, holding them easily in check to support his reputation of being the most soulless of bounty hunters. But now his anger had swollen beyond its bonds, wanting to turn the tables, to enslave him to its whims, and he had to struggle to keep it under control.  
  
Not that his anger was unjustified. The past few days had been full of setbacks and frustrations. First that attack on Jabba's sail barge, which had not only led to his employer's death but had left him in the gut of the Sarlaac to be slowly digested over the course of a thousand years. He had managed to kill the beast and crawl out of its gullet despite excruciating pain, but with the crime lord dead he was left jobless. Then he'd accepted Vader's offer of employment, a mistake in itself. Each time he worked for the Dark Lord meant another opportunity to risk death by asphyxiation, even if the pay was impressive. And to top it all off, that blasted droid had sabotaged his ship! Why hadn't Vader simply deactivated the malfunctioning scrap heap? Because it didn't pose a risk? Even Fett knew you didn't leave a loose end like that when making a capture! Now he  
  
was stranded on a back-of-beyond world with a psychotic Imperial, a smart-mouthed Rebel, and a mischievous bucket of bolts for company, and there was little he could do about the situation.  
  
Of all the blows to his pride and patience, the damage done to the Slave rankled the worst. It was far more to him than a modified Firespray craft. Once his father's, the starship was an extension of Jango, a memorial to him, something no lightsaber-wielding fanatic could take from him. When the Slave suffered damage, Fett took it as personally as injury to himself. Now the ship was crippled, a major slap in the face to the younger Fett. His father had been wounded through the attack on the Slave.  
  
His companions halted. They had come to a road, a strip of pebbles embedded in some sort of ferrocrete material, with a broken yellow line sectioning it into two lanes. Cumbersome, foul-smelling wheeled vehicles screamed by at irregular intervals. On the other side of the road stood a vibrant green sign bearing letters in Old Basic printed in reflective white paint -- "White Deer National Park." An arrow pointing left indicated the  
  
direction of "Park Headquarters" while a right-pointing arrow led to "Star City."  
  
"Civilization," Vader noted in satisfaction.  
  
What kind was the question. Fett had visited enough worlds to know the word "civilization" applied to many cultures very loosely.  
  
The boy they had seen earlier was standing by the side of the road, talking excitedly to a woman who must have been his mother and was garbed similarly to the boy, except her shirt was white and had some sort of bright orange, bipedal, feline creature printed on it. Their groundcar, as it were, was evidently suffering mechanical  
  
problems judging from the open hood and copious steam billowing from the rude engine. The child turned around, saw them, and tugged earnestly at the hem of her shirt.  
  
"Mom! Mom! It's them! I told you! They're aliens!"  
  
Fett huffed indignantly. Aliens indeed! He was as human as the boy, clone or not.  
  
"Benjamin, settle down!" the woman barked. "I'm not in the mood for your games."  
  
"But Mo-om!"  
  
"And don't run off again, young man! You could have been hurt!"  
  
Vader stalked off in the direction of Star City, away from the ailing vehicle. The Rebel looked plaintively back as if wishing to help the woman, but Fett nudged him along with a poke from his blaster. He was anxious to get off this backwoods planet and get on with his life.  
  
The Dark Lord halted again.  
  
"What is it?" growled Fett.  
  
Vader gestured for him to see for himself.  
  
Standing beside the road, evidently waiting for a bus or other ride, were three stormtroopers, backs to their party, talking amongst themselves. One had his hand on the back of his thighs and was struggling to pull his bodyglove out of an unmentionable region. Fett thought that action pretty much summed up his opinion of his clone brothers.  
  
Then he did a double take. Stormtroopers? Here?  
  
"Does the Empire have a base here?" inquired the Rebel.  
  
"No," Vader replied. "They must be from my ship. They should be able to lead us to their transport and take us back to the Executor."  
  
The soldier who was having problems with his rear end turned to the comrade on his left, a rather grungy fellow with an orange shoulder pauldon. "Wish Bill'd get here," he grumped. "He's late again."  
  
"Bill's always late," snapped the third, a scouttrooper. "I think you'd know that by now, Doug."  
  
"Shut up, Caden."  
  
They couldn't be legitimate stormtroopers, Fett realized. Stormtroopers had identification numbers, not names, and though some officers had the weird habit of assigning them nicknames, they never called each other by them. No, these had to be elaborate impostors. That fit in with the theory that there was an illegal spaceport nearby. But with Imperial security in Area 51 so tight it squeaked, how could one function without being detected?  
  
"I don't think they're genuine stormtroopers," the Rebel said.  
  
"That's impossible..." Vader began.  
  
A blindingly-red vehicle, sleek and built low to the ground with an open cockpit, shrieked to a halt off the side of the road, narrowly missing a collision with the pseudo-trooper trio. In the front seat were two women -- a chalk-skinned pilot who bore an uncanny resemblance to an old acquaintance of Fett's, Aurra Sing, and a veiled woman dressed eerily like his father's old associate Zam Wessel. Between them, arms around each lady's shoulders, obviously enjoying himself immensely, sat a Darth Vader impostor.  
  
"You guys sure can walk fast," the fake Vader noted. "Three miles from our breakdown site in two hours ain't bad."  
  
"Bi-ill!" Doug cried in disdain. "Not again!"  
  
"What took you so long?" demanded the grubby trooper.  
  
"Oh chill, Andrew, can't a guy have some fun?" protested Darth Bill. "They were the only ones willing to give us a ride."  
  
"The 'only' ones?" Caden inquired skeptically.  
  
"Okay, the only good-lookin' ones," Bill confessed.  
  
"Couldn't you at least find us a bigger set of wheels?" whined Doug. "We're gonna be squished back there."  
  
"Hey, I'm not the one in the back seat with two guys," Bill shot back.  
  
"Shut up and get in," Caden told Doug. "Beggars can't be choosers."  
  
"Shoulda taken my van," grumbled Andrew as he leaped into the back. Once the threesome was inside, the groundcar tore away, leaving a cloud of exhaust and twin black streaks in its wake.  
  
"Tell me I didn't just see that," the Rebel gaped.  
  
"Something's not right here," Vader noted.  
  
/When was your first clue?/ thought Fett.  
  
***  
  
Vader was confused -- and confusion was an emotion almost totally foreign to him. As a master of the dark side he was schooled in many subjects, and it was a rare moment when he didn't know what he was doing or what opponent he was facing. Now, stranded on a virtually unexplored world, one that had not had contact with the rest of the cosmos for millennia, he had just met people who dressed like Imperials and bounty hunters -- when they should have had no knowledge of such matters.  
  
What in the galaxy was going on?  
  
Another groundcar pulled over, this one a gray-gold color with a more blocky frame and a closed cockpit. The window glided open, and the driver stuck his head through.  
  
"Need a lift?" he asked.  
  
/By the Force, he's wearing a Jedi Padawan braid!/  
  
What was this? How could they possibly know about Jedi? It was ludicrous -- yet here was this young man, clothed and groomed in the manner of a Jedi apprentice, not appearing the least bit concerned that he was speaking to a Sith. His stomach tightened with alarm.  
  
"C'mon, I don't bite," the young man insisted. "My cat might, but he's had his shots. Besides, it's a long walk to Star City."  
  
"We would be most grateful for a ride," Vader replied, finding his voice at last. He turned to the others. "Pick your jaws up off the ground and follow my lead," he whispered. "For now, we play along."  
  
"Dig the costumes," the Jedi wannabe said as Fett opened the door and hoisted the Artoo unit inside the vehicle. "Say, you with the Droid Builder's Club?"  
  
"Uh... no," Luke replied. "Why?"  
  
"'Cause that's the coolest Artoo replica I've ever seen. Is it remote-controlled or what?"  
  
"Yes," Vader said hastily as he entered the groundcar after Fett. "We're transporting it for a friend."  
  
"I would put it in a box for safekeeping if I were you," he went on. "But that's just me." His gaze fell on Luke's hands. "That your Rebel captive or something?"  
  
"This one's proven to be a trial during our journey," replied Fett.  
  
"Well, you might wanna untie him so people don't think you're kidnapping someone and call the cops."  
  
Reluctantly Vader removed the bonds, and Luke rubbed his wrists before entering the car.  
  
Their benefactor pulled the groundcar back onto the road, operating it by means of a wheel and several foot pedals. Vader observed his actions carefully -- he might need to use such a vehicle before they left the planet. Music of an unfamiliar type filled the cockpit, and garbage littered the floor. On the front passenger seat reclined a striped gray feline creature, seemingly asleep. Odd belt-like straps lay across their seats. Vader  
  
realized they must be safety harnesses and buckled his across his waist. Luke and Fett followed suit.  
  
"Sorry about the mess," the mock Jedi apologized. "Wasn't expecting to pick up hitchhikers. My name's Trent, by the way."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Trent," Luke answered. "I'm..."  
  
/It's a good thing Luke's seated between us/ Vader thought as Fett kicked the boy to silence him. If Trent discovered just who was sitting in the back of his vehicle, there would be no predicting his reaction.  
  
"We would prefer not to give our names at this time," he answered instead.  
  
Trent shrugged. "Whatever. You guys mind Linkin Park?"  
  
"Linkin Park?" Vader repeated, puzzled.  
  
"I can put in some different music if you want."  
  
/Ah. Linkin Park must be a band name./ "This will be fine."  
  
They traveled the next half-hour in relative silence, excluding Trent's bizarre choice in music and an occasional coo or squeak from Artoo. The scenery outside the groundcar gradually changed from thick forest to woods interspersed with individual homes and businesses, then finally to urban landscape -- or something close to it, at least. Vader had spent so much time on Corusant that any city he visited seemed small and rural.  
  
"We're here!" announced Trent gleefully.  
  
A sign loomed ahead, one bordered with stars and reading in Old Basic "You Are Entering Star City -- Home of Stellar-Con and Nova-Con." Some vandal had blacked out the "t" in "Stellar" and replaced it with an "m" so it read "Smellar-Con," and written in graffiti beneath the original message was the phrase "Get lost, Trekkie bastards." A retaliating scrawl beneath that read "Nuke the Wookies." Vader's hopes of finding an intelligent ally on this world were beginning to waver.  
  
"So where ya want dropped off?" Trent asked.  
  
"Here," Vader replied.  
  
"Okay, your funeral," he replied as he pulled over, parking on a residential street. "Don't think your Rebel friend'll be welcome here, though."  
  
"Why?" Vader demanded.  
  
"Because this is where Vader's Elite have their annual bash before Stellar-Con."  
  
"And who might Vader's Elite be?" he inquired warily.  
  
"Some local Imperial fan group," Trent replied. "They're too disorganized to be part of the Fighting 501st and too Empire-centered to be much else. Anyone in a bad-guy costume's welcome to the party, but the last Rebel to go in there came out on his butt. Hard."  
  
Vader puzzled silently over this information as he opened the door and slid out of the groundcar. As Luke climbed out after him, a gray and black blur bolted from the vehicle and streaked up a nearby tree.  
  
"Wicket!" howled Trent, leaping out of the driver's seat. "Stupid cat! Get back down here!"  
  
Vader ignored him and approached the nearest residence. Groundcars of all shapes and sizes surrounded the house, and a pounding noise emanated from a warehouse set a short way off the road. Two Imperial troopers -- or at least people dressed like Imperial troopers -- entered the building. That must have been where Vader's Elite gathered.  
  
He seriously doubted this "Imperial group" was actually a faction of the Empire. More likely it was another motley pack of impostors. But he knew they had to contact this Vader's Elite. Someone on this forsaken planet must have some information on how to get back to known space. At the very least, they needed to learn what was going on in this system.  
  
"The Rebel needs a disguise," Fett murmured.  
  
Vader mused over that as he studied Luke. Real Imperials or not, Trent's comments regarding the Elite indicated that Skywalker would be torn apart if he entered the building in his Rebel flightsuit. He did not want the Emperor's prize damaged.  
  
/If you ever see the Emperor again./  
  
Snarling, he crushed that opposing thought.  
  
A drunken snowtrooper scrambled out of his vehicle and staggered toward the building. He only made it a few paces before he gurgled ominously and stumbled into the bushes. Tearing off the helmet, he emptied his stomach on the grass and lurched a few more steps before passing out. Vader smiled beneath his mask. How fortunate. This man was very nearly of Skywalker's build. He motioned to the others, and they dragged  
  
the intoxicated man farther into the brush.  
  
They emerged a few minutes later, Luke adjusting his newly acquired shoulder plates. 


	5. Party Crashers

Part V -- Party Crashers  
  
"Smashing success! Austin noted, shouting to be heard over the din. "How many guests we got?"  
  
"I'd say seventy-five, eighty," guessed Sparky. At forty-five he was the oldest member of the Elite, and a car accident had left him in a wheelchair a decade ago. His affectionately teasing nickname stemmed from a previous career as an electrician, and he served the fan club as Austin's second-in-command. Quite in keeping with the Star Wars spirit, he wore an Imperial Admiral costume.  
  
"I believe every year we cater to a larger crowd," Sparky said. "Hey, pass me some of those buffalo wings, please?"  
  
The two of them stood next to the snack bar, and Austin quietly filched the wing plate and handed it to Sparky. "If it gets too much bigger, we'll have to find a bigger venue," he replied. "Nice of the Osmonds to let us use their shop, but it can only hold so many Warsies."  
  
"There's always the lodge at park headquarters," suggested Sparky.  
  
"Are you kidding? You have to reserve that place a decade in advance if you want to use it during a convention."  
  
"Just a thought."  
  
If the Emperor existed, Austin thought as he nabbed a handful of Cheetohs and pulled off his helmet to snack on them, he would be proud to see so many villains gathered under one roof. Liz manned the DJ table and was taking requests from an insistent AT-AT pilot. Grand Admiral Thrawn and a Tonnika sister executed a lively  
  
couple dance while Mara Jade proved to a gaggle of gaping TIE pilots that girls could indeed break dance. Two clonetroopers compared armor-building techniques by the drink cooler, Jason was hitting on Aurra Sing and failing miserably, and a shirtless, chemically altered Darth Maul slurred out "Vanilla Ice" on the karaoke machine. No alcohol was being served here, but that didn't prevent a few patrons from imbibing before their arrival. All in all, it seemed everyone was having a good time.  
  
"Oh look, new arrivals," Sparky pointed out as three more Imps -- Darth Vader, Boba Fett, and a snowtrooper -- entered the warehouse, looking rather lost and confused.  
  
"Trapper, why don't you go welcome them?" Austin suggested.  
  
Trapper sat cross-legged under the table, intent on whatever adventure he was concocting with his action figures.  
  
"Trapper?" Austin repeated.  
  
"Dad, I'm kinda busy," he complained.  
  
"We can see that," Sparky replied. "What's going on in the plastic galaxy today?"  
  
Trapper lifted his Emperor's Wrath Darth Vader in the air. "Darth Vader, leader of the Rebel Alliance, is leading his droid army in their first offensive strike against Emperor Jango and Prince Boba's evil Empire, while Jedi Master Artoo-Detoo sends his Padawan learners Luke and Leia to infiltrate Jar Jar Binks' criminal empire."  
  
"That isn't how the story goes," said Rachel, who was sitting next to Trapper and braiding her Wookie doll's fur. Rachel was the daughter of Conrad and Diana Church, a family who came to the Elite's functions dressed as Tusken Raiders (but thankfully not talking like them). She took things quite seriously for a five-year-old.  
  
"I know!" Trapper snapped. "But they're my figures, so I can do what I want with them."  
  
"Trapper, our new guests don't appear to know what's going on," Austin said. "Kindly introduce them and clarify things."  
  
Trapper "shot down" one last stormtrooper with the appropriate sound effects, including Wilheim scream, then crawled out from under the snack bar and headed toward the trio.  
  
"Quite a son you have there," Sparky told Austin. "Spending the summer with his old man, is he?"  
  
Austin snorted in disgust. "If you can call it that. He has to be back in Chicago by July 19."  
  
"Really?" Sparky's eyebrows flicked upward in mild surprise -- he had the most mobile and expressive eyebrows Austin had ever seen. "Melissa keeps calling him back sooner and sooner every summer. Last year it was July 25, the year before August 1. What's next, the two-hour summer?"  
  
"Woudn't doubt it. I don't care that she hates me; I just wish she wouldn't use the visitation as a weapon of vengeance."  
  
"And this can't be good for Mini-V."  
  
"Got that right. He hates it when we fight. And I can tell her vindictive attitude is hurting him too."  
  
"Have you considered taking this to a judge?"  
  
Austin laughed sarcastically as he replaced his helmet. "What, my lawyer against hers? Anymore it's not justice that rules, its whatever lawyer costs more that wins a case. And she spends more on legal fees than I make in a year."  
  
Trapper ran to his father, the threesome in tow. "Dad, they wanna talk to someone in charge."  
  
"That would be you, International Man of Mystery," Sparky said with a grin. He knew Austin hated it whenever anyone connected his name with Mike Myers.  
  
"Knock off the jokes," Austin shot back. To the others he said, "I'm Austin Powers, leader of Vader's Elite. May I help you?"  
  
The Vader wannabe had the most detailed costume Austin had ever seen, down to the voice synthesizer and the blinking lights on his chest plate. He even had Vader's distinctive stance right -- shoulders back, hands on belt, an aura of confidence and sheer power about him. Probably a member of the 501st. He'd ask him for tips on improving his own costume later.  
  
"We are visitors," the man explained, taking great pains to put Vader-esque inflections in his words. "We are unfamiliar with the area and would like information."  
  
"Well, you're on the outskirts of Star City," Austin offered. "If you keep following Highway 48 you'll hit downtown..."  
  
"What I mean is," he interrupted, "information about your planet."  
  
Sparky cocked an eyebrow. "I thought this was a non-alcoholic party."  
  
"Relax, Sparks," Austin ordered. "I know this type." At every convention there was always a group of yahoos impersonating the Star Wars characters and hitting up everyone in their vicinity for info on the planet / Rebel base / last surviving Jedi / all three. Usually the nuts were harmless, though last year a Darth Maul "reincarnate" had actually attacked a young man dressed as Qui-gon Jinn. The delusional Sith had come out of that incident with a hefty fine, the unfortunate Jedi with eight stitches and a sour attitude toward the double-cons.  
  
"Well, sir," Austin explained, "this is Earth, a human-inhabited planet with a variety of climates and terrains and no perfected means of space travel..."  
  
"Whoa!" exclaimed Rachel, scrambling out from under the table and staring up at the man. "You're the biggest Darth Vader I've ever seen!"  
  
The snowtrooper snorted as if suppressing laughter.  
  
"Yes, thank you for the observation, Rachel," Austin told the girl, and he opened his mouth to resume his explanation.  
  
She wasn't done. "You have shiny boots," she continued, squatting to inspect his feet. "I can see my face in them."  
  
The man backed away as if her touch would sully him.  
  
"Okay Rachel, I'm sure he's thankful for the compliment," Austin said, gently cutting her off.  
  
But there was no stopping the girl when she was on a roll. Looking up into his armored face, she stated, in all the frankness of the very young, "You smell funny."  
  
"Rachel!" cried Austin, throwing the proverbial kid gloves out the proverbial window. "You know better than that!"  
  
"But he does!" she countered.  
  
The snowtrooper and Fett impersonator doubled over and vainly tried to stuff back their laughter. Their companion glared at them, but they continued to snort and choke.  
  
"Really," Sparky said blandly. "Tell us, Rachel, what does he smell like?"  
  
"Sparky, don't encourage her!" Austin protested.  
  
"Like the slide in the park during the summer," she replied.  
  
"C'mon, Austin, there are worse things to smell like," Sparky pointed out.  
  
"Rachel, maybe you'd better find your parents now," Austin suggested firmly, taking her by the shoulder and pointing her away from the group. She took the hint and wandered off, Wookie in tow.  
  
"She's cute," the snowtrooper remarked once he regained his composure. "Yours?"  
  
"Thank heavens, no," Austin replied. "Her parents have quite a handful with her."  
  
"I can imagine."  
  
"Is there a spaceport on this world?" the pseudo-Vader demanded, cutting that conversation off.  
  
Austin tried to sound regretful. "I'm afraid not. The closest thing we have is Cape Caravel in Florida, and even those ships won't get you beyond our moon. Look, why don't you simply relax and enjoy the party? I promise we won't scare you too badly."  
  
The Vader wannabe glared at him, but his Fett-dressed comrade elbowed him and muttered "He won't be of any more help. Try someone else." His voice sounded like a running garbage disposal full of wet sand. Either he had a voice simulator too or he was going to have a royally sore throat by convention's end.  
  
As the trio departed, Sparky looked up at Austin and demanded "What was that all about?"  
  
"You occasionally get role-players like that," he replied. "And they'll sometimes get physical with you if you call their bluff. The best method of dealing with them is humoring them."  
  
Sparky shrugged. "Whatever you say. You've been doing this longer than I have."  
  
"Yeah, I believe I've pretty much seen everything at these Cons."  
  
At that moment a man wobbled into the building, obviously drunk and wearing nothing except a tank top with the Imperial Insignia silk-screened on the chest and TIE fighter silk boxers. He threw his arms in the air and yelled "Hey everyone, look at me!"  
  
Austin groaned. "Okay, NOW I've seen everything."  
  
Sparky laughed heartily. "Looks like somebody lost his costume."  
  
Austin rolled his eyes before taking a glance at the dance floor. "The guests are getting kind of antsy. Should we bring on Lady Vader?"  
  
Sparky smiled knowingly. "I think it's a good idea. We haven't heard Liberty sing in a long time. Hey, you planning on taking her out after the party?"  
  
"Not tonight. You know how much energy she puts into these performances. If I took her out on a date tonight, she'd be out cold by the time we hit the restaurant parking lot."  
  
"Even the Lady Vader deserves some time off, eh?"  
  
"Got that right." He dusted Cheetoh crumbs from his gloves and moved off to find Liberty.  
  
***  
  
Vader had to restrain himself from crushing a few windpipes as two false scouttroopers snickered disdainfully in his face and walked off, muttering something about "another one of those delusional loons who's seen 'Empire' too many times." This entire affair was infuriating him. He'd expected to find some sort of Imperial ally here,  
  
but it was becoming rapidly apparent that he'd find no such aid among these mimics. And if that copycat Austin had been correct, there wasn't even a means off planet! Unless someone aboard the Executor was intelligent enough -- or a member of the Rebellion brazen enough -- to send a search party (and he wagered nothing on either possibility) they were effectively stranded here.  
  
But the more he stopped wrangling with his problem and simply observed this world's natives, the more he realized the true puzzle wasn't how to leave this system. It was how a planet that had no contact with the galaxy beyond their pitiful system had such an intimate knowledge of its denizens and dealings. The costumes these revelers wore were accurate to an alarming degree, down to authentic-looking scrapes and char marks similar to damages suffered by crack Imperial troops. People discussed such matters as why some Jedi disappeared upon death while others did not, the morality of killing civilians aboard the Death Star, and how Han Solo could have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs as if they were seasoned spacers. Wisecracks and jabs were  
  
exchanged that referred to names and events that these people should have had no inkling of:  
  
"You really have a way with women, Lando."  
  
"Yeah, I hail from Minnesota. Reminds me of Hoth."  
  
"Justin here's from Kamino -- or Seattle, take your pick."  
  
"Stang man, Anakin Skywalker's got better pickup lines than you!"  
  
"Shut up, nerf herder!"  
  
Fett slipped in beside Vader and murmured "I see you haven't had much luck either."  
  
He shook his head. "How insane do they judge you to be?"  
  
The hunter nodded at a man in a Death Star gunner suit. "He asked me if I was on drugs."  
  
Vader snarled wordlessly and turned to find Luke. They would obviously get no help here. Their only chance to leave the planet was to return to their ships and attempt a slap-together repair job. He hadn't needed to repair anything for himself since his turn to the Sith, but he shouldn't have lost his knack. Mentally he evaluated the damage done to the Slave, judging what parts of the X-wing and TIE fighter he had at his disposal and whether they would be enough to get the Firespray running again.  
  
/Why bother? Why try dragging your son down the same dark, twisted path you now tread? Is that fair to him? To yourself?/  
  
He was so absorbed in stifling that sudden torrent of protest that he never sensed the girl in the clonetrooper armor sneaking up behind him.  
  
"Hey Dark Lord! Nice costume!" she exclaimed flirtatiously.  
  
She then proceeded to pinch him in a sensitive area.  
  
Reflex and the Force kicked in, deciding this action was a threat. He tore his lightsaber from his belt and swung it in an arc toward her, igniting it as he did so. Unconsciously he angled the weapon to make a slashing graze across her shoulder, a mere warning of what would become of her if she laid a hand on him again.  
  
The blade never touched her. Something tugged at his belt, and on the extreme borders of his vision he saw Luke summon his weapon with the Force. A bar of green intercepted his blood-red blade, sparing the girl from harm.  
  
Vader and Luke locked eyes, will against will, light against dark, son against father. Emerald and ruby shafts of light strained against each other as Jedi and Sith held their stances, one seeking to shield an innocent, the other to maim said being. So it was here they were to duel again, was it? He'd hoped to delay such a confrontation until they were before the Emperor, but if Skywalker insisted...  
  
By this time the stunned girl gathered her wits enough to realize she was supposed to be afraid. Her high-pitched screams brought the festivities to an abrupt halt and all eyes to the duelists.  
  
"It's Darth Vader!" someone shouted.  
  
"And a stormtrooper Jedi!"  
  
"That's no stormtrooper, that's Luke Skywalker!"  
  
Someone heavy smashed into Vader, knocking him over. Reflexively he grabbed his attacker by the throat but found that thick plastic protected the man's neck. Instead of choking him he rolled over, pinning his opponent to the floor with one arm, holding his lightsaber just over his foe's head with the other.  
  
It was Austin Powers, no doubt coming to the rescue of his friend. He writhed madly to escape the Dark Lord's grip, but froze when he saw the energy blade mere centimeters from cleaving his skull apart. Waves of shock and disbelief poured off him, as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him.  
  
"You're... Darth Vader," he whispered, incredulous.  
  
"Who else?" snarled Vader.  
  
"But... it can't be... you're not real... you can't be..."  
  
A gloved hand clamped on Vader's shoulder, and he looked up to see Fett staring down at him.  
  
"Let him up, Vader. We have bigger problems."  
  
Vader realized that time had only slowed for him. The patrons of this celebration were in an uproar, screaming, gawking, arguing with each other, running madly about. Luke was yelling at the mob to calm down, but no one paid him any heed. The clonetrooper was sobbing in terror as a harried-looking Count Dooku tried to calm her  
  
down. The little Tusken child who had "complimented" him earlier stared at him with an expression of utter awe, completely oblivious to her hysterical parents as they pulled her away.  
  
Suddenly a piercing whistle sliced through the bedlam, and the chair-bound "admiral" pushed his mobile seat into a clear spot where all could see him.   
  
"Everyone who's not a member of Vader's Elite leave now!" he shouted. "Emergency meeting! The party is over! Please do not call your lawyers or the police!"  
  
If anyone was disappointed at the early ending to their revelry, none were willing to show it. Rather, they seemed eager for an excuse to depart. Vader stood and allowed his copy to right himself. He noted that neither Austin nor the child were among those leaving. With some disgust he saw that the woman who had started all this wasn't departing either.  
  
The crowd was reduced to about twenty people once all non-members had exited the building. A Boba Fett impersonator closed the doors and locked them. Some began picking up wallets and other objects discarded in the hasty exodus. Others clustered around the clonetrooper or Austin, inquiring if they were all right. Luke was among those comforting the woman, apologizing for any trauma they had caused.  
  
Vader shook his head disdainfully. Any trauma she had suffered was her own doing.  
  
"All right, did anyone see all of what happened?" asked the admiral. "Can anyone tell me both sides of the story?"  
  
"I saw everything!" shouted the Tusken girl, eager to provide information. "Darcy pinched Darth Vader's bum and he drew his lightsaber..."  
  
"Shut up, you little tattle-tale!" the clonetrooper interrupted her crying long enough to snap.  
  
"Darcy, be nice to Rachel!" chided a snowtrooper.  
  
Austin raised a hand to silence the crowd and gave Luke, Vader, and Fett a long, studious stare.  
  
"Darth Vader," he said quietly, almost reverently. "Boba Fett. And Luke Skywalker in disguise." He shook his head as if still not quite comprehending this. "In the flesh -- so to speak. Are you here by yourselves, or can we expect Han and Leia too?"  
  
A faint beeping issued from outside. A stormtrooper opened the door to admit the astromech droid.  
  
"It's Artoo-Detoo!"  
  
That number struck a chord with Vader, but he put the matter from his mind. It was the least of his concerns at the moment.  
  
"It looks like we have a lot to discuss," the admiral noted.  
  
"Yes," Vader agreed. His gaze swept the amazed crowd. "A lot." 


	6. Introductions

Part VI -- Introductions  
  
It took several minutes to calm everyone down to the point where intelligent conversation was possible. Another hour went by as they finished cleaning up the party and broke out some odd-looking chairs for an impromptu meeting. Two Boba Fett impostors cleared off the refreshment table and disappeared for a few minutes to put the food away.   
  
Luke considered, not for the first time, making his escape while Vader and Fett were occupied with the puzzles this world presented. And not for the first time he dismissed the idea. Even if he escaped recapture -- which was fairly unlikely -- he had no way to get back to the rendezvous. Besides, if he left now, he'd never find out how the natives of Earth knew so much about the Empire. So instead of contemplating an escape route he made himself useful by helping set up chairs, though it took awhile for him to figure the contraptions out. These metal chairs were built to be collapsible, a trick that made them much easier to store but harder to set up.  
  
"Don't feel too bad about it," a stormtrooper told him as Luke caught himself trying to open a chair the wrong way. "I practically grew up sitting on a folding chair, and I still get tangled up setting them out."  
  
He was taking this rather well, Luke noted. Most of the others he caught gawking at him or Fett or Vader whenever he looked up. Some were murmuring among themselves.  
  
"Dude, if anyone else finds out about this, it's gonna cause mass riots," noted a sandtrooper.  
  
"Only on Skywalker Ranch," quipped a Tusken in a joke Luke didn't get.  
  
"No one's gonna find about it," a female snowtrooper ordered, "because WE are going to keep quiet about this."  
  
"Um, what about all those people who saw..." began the sandtrooper.  
  
"Who's gonna believe them?" the Tusken pointed out. "Mulder and Scully? Especially this time of year."  
  
The stormtrooper laughed. "This is really going to take some getting used to." He extended a hand toward Luke. "My name's Brigham."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you, Brigham," Luke replied, shaking his hand. "You already know my name."  
  
Brigham chuckled, then set down the chair he was holding and walked over to a TIE pilot who was staring into space, clutching a still-folded chair and looking rather lost.   
  
"Mike, you okay?" Brigham asked him.  
  
"I can't remember if I'm putting them up or taking them down," Mike replied vaguely.  
  
Brigham sighed wearily. "Here Mike, give me the chair and sit down."  
  
Mike complied, but he missed the chair and ended up on his back. Everyone shared a chuckle as he scrambled to his feet.  
  
At last the Elite completed the cleanup and seated themselves in a circle. There were eighteen of them, all dressed as either Imperials, bounty hunters, or other sinister-looking beings. Luke wondered at that, as he had almost since regaining consciousness back at the landing site. He hoped these people would be able to answer their many questions.  
  
"This meeting of Vader's Elite will now come to order," Austin Powers announced, standing. "First of all, I would like to introduce our visitors..."  
  
"How can you pay attention to formalities at a time like this?!" demanded a veiled woman in violet-brown leather.  
  
"Shut up, Liz," snapped a female scouttrooper.  
  
"Our visitors Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Boba Fett, and Artoo-Detoo," Austin went on, ignoring the two women. "Welcome to the group."  
  
"Can I get your autographs?" a young boy in Darth Vader armor asked, kicking his feet excitedly.  
  
"Later, Trapper," Austin ordered. "As guests to our fan club and planet, we would like to know if you have any questions."  
  
Luke most definitely had questions, but before he could voice any Vader spoke.  
  
"First order of business," he intoned. "I believe introductions are in order. You are Austin Powers, and your son is Trapper. We know that much."  
  
"Yes, introductions would be good," Austin agreed. He gestured to his left. "We'll start with Sparky, then go clockwise from there."  
  
"But that makes me last!" complained Mike.  
  
"That gives you more time to plan your intro," replied the man on Austin's left, a gentle-looking middle-aged man sitting in a wheeled chair and dressed as an Imperial officer. "My name's Ryan O'Brian, but you can call me Sparky. I'm second-in-command."  
  
"That's an... interesting nickname," Luke noted.  
  
"Thank you," Sparky replied, waggling his eyebrows. He turned to the dark-robed young man beside him. "Your turn."  
  
While traveling with the Rebellion, Luke had been able to research subjects his uncle never allowed him to so much as glimpse back on the homestead. One of these was the Clone Wars, which made sense seeing as his father had been involved in them. He'd seen holos of the separist leader Count Dooku during his personal study of the Wars, and this man almost exactly resembled the ex-Jedi, from the neatly trimmed hair and beard  
  
which had been dyed silver-white to the elegant black and red robes. Even the distinctive "crooked" lightsaber was accurate to the most minuscule detail.  
  
The illusion was shattered when he began picking his nose. He was trying to make it look like he was just scratching it, but it was quite evident what he was really doing.  
  
"I'm Zack Brown. I'm the record keeper." He lifted an item that resembled a tiny datapad so the others could see it.  
  
The veiled woman pulled back her veil momentarily. "Liz Djedovich. Club treasurer." She replaced the cloth and immediately tuned her surroundings out.  
  
"Look at her," Zack teased. "Coolest thing ever to happen at the cons and she's checked out."  
  
"I heard that!" she snapped.  
  
"Liz, for now, turn off the headphones," Austin ordered. "This is important."  
  
She rolled her eyes, then placed a hand on a disc-shaped appliance attached to her belt and switched it off.  
  
"What's that?" demanded Fett.  
  
"CD player," Liz replied. "Plays music."  
  
"I hear no music," Vader pointed out.  
  
"I wear headphones so only I hear the music," she explained.  
  
"Ahem," Austin coughed, indicating it was time to move on.  
  
The woman to Liz's left wore armor very similar to Vader's, but it had been altered and given a distinctly feminine flavor. Rather than make her look broad and larger than life, it accentuated her natural curves, and for artistic reasons the chest panel and belt controls had been removed. Her gloves and boots retained their militarian look but had been streamlined to fit her hands and feet and give her a warrior-queen elegance. To further distinguish herself from Vader, her cloak had been embroidered, though her back was to the wall and Luke couldn't see what pattern had been stitched into the fabric. He wondered how well her choice of apparel was going over with the real Vader.  
  
"My name's Liberty King," she said, nodding politely. "I handle contest entries for art, fiction, films, costumes, and the like."  
  
"I'm Jason Osmond," the Boba Fett impostor offered. He clapped a hand on his neighbor's shoulder, a man whose armor was almost identical to Jason's, only less beat-up and silver and blue rather than green and red. "This is my brother Patrick. We're the activities directors."  
  
Patrick nodded and raised a hand in greeting.  
  
"Meaning Jason comes up with the ideas and Patrick has to do all the grunt work to carry them out," quipped Liberty.  
  
"Drop dead," Jason retorted. "That's not true."  
  
"Who did ninety percent of the work getting the party set up?" inquired a Sandperson.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Quiet, please," Austin requested. "Steve?"  
  
The horned being by Patrick grinned, his toothy smile splitting a face that was a filigree of red and black. His eyes glowed an acidic orange, and a lightsaber with a blade emitter shroud at either end gleamed against his black clothing. Despite his fearsome appearance, Luke detected no malevolence in his bearing.  
  
"My name's Steve Durrant. I'm the gadget guy -- or technical expert, if you want to get picky about it."  
  
The next three members wore the garb of Sandpeople -- a male, a female, and a small child who clutched a Wookie doll in her arms and kicked her feet impatiently.  
  
"I'm Conrad Church," the man introduced. "This is my lovely wife Diana." He took her hand and lifted it to his face, pretending to kiss it through his facial wrappings. "And this is our daughter Rachel. Our family coordinates the activity schedule."  
  
Rachel stared, transfixed, at Vader as if he were some new toy in a window display. "You're really Darth Vader?"  
  
Vader was a long while in replying, but he eventually allowed her a nod.  
  
"You got the Force, don't you?"  
  
A second nod.  
  
"How do you go to the bathroom in that suit?"  
  
"Rachel!" chided Diana.  
  
"Sorry about that," apologized Conrad. "Sometimes kids say the damndest things."  
  
"Conrad, watch your mouth!" Diana's scolding fell on her husband now. "There are innocent ears present."  
  
"Honey, our daughter's grown up watching sci-fi war movies," Conrad replied. "She's not that innocent."  
  
"Next!" declared Sparky.  
  
"I'm Brigham Pratt," the stormtrooper said, waving. "I lead the Troopers. We're a sub-group of the Elite."  
  
"I'm Emily Snow," the snowtrooper added. "I'm his second."  
  
"I'm Amethyst Andrews, club rep and publicist," the scouttrooper put in.  
  
"That's not her real name," the sandtrooper piped up. "Her real name's..."  
  
"Amethyst Andrews!" Amethyst insisted, punching him in the arm.  
  
'"Didn't used to be."  
  
"I know, but I legally changed it once I was of legal age. It's now Amethyst, and that's all these guys need to know..."  
  
"Used to be Julie!" the sandtrooper said enthusiastically before Amethyst/Julie could deck him again.  
  
"What's wrong with a name like Julie?" asked Luke.  
  
"Nothing," Steve replied, "except Julie Andrews also happens to be the name of a famous actress and singer on this planet."  
  
The sandtrooper flung his head back and belted out what vaguely resembled a song -- he was so off-key it was hard to tell what the original tune was.  
  
"The hiiiiiiiiiiills are aliiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuusiiiiiiiiiic! The soooooongs they have suuuuuung for a thousand yeeeeaaars!"  
  
Amethyst grabbed him by the neck and began shaking him furiously, chanting "Shut up" in time with her thrashings. The action served only to further distort the man's caterwauling.  
  
"Knock it off, lovebirds," Brigham told them. "You can pound him later, Amethyst."  
  
She released her victim but continued to glare at him.  
  
"I'm Cody Suk," the sandtrooper introduced. "And... and..." He sobbed. "I'm an alcoholic, man!"  
  
"Oh geez," grumbled Jason.  
  
"Hey, that's a good one, Cody," Conrad told him. "I shoulda used that for my intro."  
  
Cody laughed. "No, really, I'm the EU expert."  
  
"Define EU," Vader requested.  
  
"We'll do that later," Emily answered.  
  
"I'm Darcy Akers, and I'm the transportation director," said the clonetrooper. "That means I'm in charge of getting everyone where we're supposed to go, like chartering buses for Dragon*Con or making sure people have rides, but you probably knew that."  
  
"Um, Darcy?" Sparky cut in.  
  
"Listen, Lord Vader, I am, like, really, really sorry about what I did to you earlier," Darcy went on. "I, like, totally forgot my boyfriend wasn't going to show up, and he dresses like you, so I just saw you and thought 'Oh, a Darth Vader, that must be Kevin.' But I hope you'll forgive..."  
  
"Darcy!" Brigham said sternly.  
  
"You'll have to excuse her," Amethyst told Vader. "She tends to ramble."  
  
"I don't ramble, I just like to talk. I mean, everyone has stuff they like to do and I find I particularly enjoy talking, even when it's about nothing..."  
  
"Especially when it's about nothing," murmured Cody.  
  
"Enough!" Liz snapped.  
  
"I propose that from now on, caffienated drinks are banned from all our functions," Jason suggested.  
  
"Do that and I'll drop out," Steve replied with a teasing smile.  
  
"That's enough," Austin ordered. "Michael?"  
  
"Huh?" He had zoned out. "What?"  
  
"Do you want to introduce yourself?"  
  
"Sure, I..." he began, but he lost his balance as his chair, which he had been tipping back on its hind legs, tilted past its center of balance. Man and chair toppled backward, limbs flailing, and hit the ferrocrete floor with a metallic clatter and a dull thud.  
  
"You all right?" Darcy inquired anxiously.  
  
Austin stooped to help his comrade to his feet. "I keep telling you not to tip these chairs, Mike."  
  
Mike grunted, rubbing his backside. "Mike Hall, website designer and editor."  
  
"Now that that's over with, can we get autographs now?" asked Trapper.  
  
"Yeah, can we?" Zack repeated, grinning widely.  
  
"You two really have single-track minds, don't you?" Emily replied, shaking her head.  
  
"I have a second question," Vader stated.  
  
"Ask away," Sparky invited.  
  
He paused, as if judging how best to put this into words, then proceeded to speak what had been burning in all three of their minds for the past few hours:  
  
"How, in the name of the Force, do the natives of a planet entirely cut off from our galaxy, whom we have never visited or told of our ways, know so much about our ways, our people, our leaders and heroes and rogues, and worse, consider such knowledge entirely natural?"  
  
A long moment of uncomfortable silence.  
  
"You want an honest answer?" replied Liberty finally.  
  
"Please," Fett replied.  
  
"We don't know," she answered with a rueful shrug.  
  
"We've always assumed it was fictional," Conrad added. "Though maybe, in the back of our minds, we sometimes wished you and your galaxy far, far away existed."  
  
"We're not that far away," Fett defended.  
  
"Obviously, or you wouldn't be here," Emily replied.  
  
"What do you mean, you assumed we were fictional?" Vader demanded.  
  
"Some guy named George Lucas made movies about you," Trapper replied eagerly. "And they're really cool!"  
  
"What's a movie?" asked Luke.  
  
Austin put his hands together with a clap. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it's time we introduced our friends to one of our little pre-Con rituals."  
  
"Movie marathon!" cried Cody and Zack simultaneously.  
  
"I call a short recess," Austin continued, "while we adjourn to the Osmond's living room. You guys are going to love this."  
  
***  
  
"I still don't understand what's going on," Luke complained to Austin as they settled down on the couch. "What exactly are we doing?"  
  
"Viewing the motion pictures that taught us all about you," he replied cryptically. "Think of this as a holodrama in 2-D."  
  
Patrick was tinkering with a large vidscreen while members of the Elite made themselves as comfortable as they were able in the crowded living room of Patrick and Jason's home. Austin, Fett, Vader, and Luke had been granted seats on the room's sofa and two chairs; the rest of the club had to sit or lay on the floor, but no one objected. Except for Liz, who evidently complained about everything, and Rachel, who for some mysterious reason had attached herself to Vader and insisted on sitting in his lap. Time and again the Dark Lord would remove her with a stern rebuke, and time and again she would climb back up. Finally he gave up, allowing her to remain on his knee.  
  
Luke smiled. Another sign that his father wasn't entirely evil -- or at least not evil enough to harm a child. That was a step above the total blackness he'd once thought him to be part of.  
  
"You're gonna love this movie," Rachel babbled as she squeezed her Wookie to her chest. "You're in it. Luke's in another one, and so's Boba Fett. Artoo's in all of them. I think they're cool, but Mommy always covers my eyes at the interesting parts."  
  
"Just be off me by the time this is over," Vader growled.  
  
"I'll probably be asleep," she replied. "When we watch all of them at once I always fall asleep during the second one." She held up her Wookie. "This is my Chewbacca doll. Daddy gave him to me for my first Christmas. I changed his name to Moriancumer. Brigham gave me that name. I call him Mori for short."  
  
Vader held a finger over his mask's air intake vent. "It's starting."  
  
"Introducing the Fifth Annual Vader's Elite Star Wars Movie Marathon!" shouted Jason, and the entire room burst into applause as blue letters appeared on the vidscreen.  
  
"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...." 


	7. Different Paths

Part VII -- Different Paths  
  
True to her word, Rachel abruptly fell asleep partway into "Attack of the Clones," just before the duel between Obi-wan Kenobi and Jango Fett. By then, though, Vader had long forgotten entirely about the girl, even though she had rambled nonstop throughout the entire first movie. From the moment that first starship had crossed the screen, the motion pictures had totally commanded his attention.  
  
They knew... By the Force, they knew...  
  
His life... his boyhood... the lurid details of his romance with Padme Amidala, his slaughter of the Sandpeople, his strict and oftimes cruel dealings within the Empire... all were captured with hideously eerie accuracy within these films. They knew so much about him, perhaps more than he knew himself. They knew Luke was his son, something he had thought no living being except he, Luke, and the Emperor were aware of. They knew of the Empire's atrocities and devious ways. They knew about his fall to the dark side, though the details of that were mercifully absent. They knew so much... and worse, were so casual about that knowledge!  
  
The films had gone into the player one right after another, with only a brief pause between "Attack of the Clones" and "A New Hope." Here Austin had explained that Episode III was still in the works and no one knew much about it, save that in that movie the Empire was supposed to completely supplant the Republic and Anakin would complete his journey to the ways of the Sith. Then he had popped the next movie into the vidscreen.  
  
Vader felt a rush of relief when "The Empire Strikes Back" ended. That film had touched on events that were far too recent for comfort. Emotions whirled within him like a sandstorm, barely restrained by a barrier of shock. He realized he had both fists clenched and forced them open, the knuckles in his natural left hand cracking audibly.  
  
When he glanced over at Luke, he saw the boy was obviously just as shocked as he, if not more. His mouth hung open, his face was nearly as white as his "borrowed" armor, and tears had marked glistening paths down his cheeks. Fett sat placidly on his chair, looking for all the world like an armored statue. He had betrayed no emotion during the viewing other than a slight but visible cringe when his father had died onscreen. Artoo had been quite vocal throughout the ordeal and appeared delighted at his role as the comical hero, though no one could understand his exclamations.  
  
Vader felt something slip across his face, and for once he was glad for the all-encompassing helmet to shield his expression. He attempted to quench his wild emotions, but they would not be stilled. He had spent decades trying to forget the man he had once been, and this experience threatened to undo all that work through reminding him of Anakin Skywalker.  
  
"Next!" declared Zack, holding up the last cassette.  
  
/Sweet stars, no/ thought Vader with something resembling panic.  
  
"Zack!" barked Brigham in protest, and he nearly tackled his friend in his haste to keep him from starting the tape.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Zack whined. "They gotta see the whole thing!"  
  
"Um, Zacky," Darcy explained, lowering her voice to a "secretive" whisper that everyone in the room could hear, "it would seem that certain events, like, haven't occurred yet, if you know what I mean." She nodded at Vader as if to indicate something. "And, like, having them watch 'Return of the Jedi' might screw up what's supposed to happen, if you know what I mean."  
  
"No, I don't know what you mean," Zack replied.  
  
"If they know what's gonna happen, it'll screw up fate," Amethyst clarified.  
  
"Fate schmate," Jason grumped. "I don't believe in it."  
  
"Haven't you seen 'Back to the Future?'" demanded Brigham. "Knowing the future can backfire."  
  
"Actually, in that movie, knowing the future turned out to be a good thing," Emily pointed out.  
  
"Good grief, whose side are you on?" said Amethyst.  
  
"Actually, I'm on the not-watching-'Jedi' side," she replied. She turned to explain to their guests. "There are things that happen in 'Jedi' that apparently haven't happened yet in your galaxy. We're afraid that having you watch them can mess up future events."   
  
"An understandable fear," Vader replied, relieved that the majority of the Elite seemed to be against viewing the last film.  
  
"Excuse me, but who says it's gonna happen like that?" Cody retorted. "I mean, NOWHERE in Episode VI does it show any hint that the characters visit our rock. There's one difference. The rest can turn out differently too."  
  
"Why take chances, uber-geek?" countered Amethyst.  
  
"'Cause it's Star Wars, Mary Poppins."  
  
"Don't call me that!"  
  
Cody grinned broadly as he began to sing. "Oh, a spoon-ful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go do-own, medicine go down..."  
  
"Shut up, you little sack of bantha poodoo!"  
  
"Has anyone thought to ask these guys' opinions?" Austin suggested calmly.  
  
Zack and Cody blushed while Jason folded his arms, muttering.  
  
"Your call," said Conrad, taking the cassette from Zack and holding it up. "Episode VI -- watch or not?"  
  
Vader managed to force his emotions back, sealing them off as he had done so many times before. It was more difficult to do so now -- another incentive to leave this planet before something else reminded him of his former life. "I think," he said slowly, "that we have suffered enough shock tonight."  
  
Conrad's expression softened as he realized Vader's implication. "We're so sorry," he apologized. "We didn't realize how personal some of this material was to you."  
  
Austin nodded in sympathy. "We've just thought of them as just movies for so long, it's hard to snap out of that mind frame. Realizing the stories you've grown up with aren't just stories but fact is difficult to digest."  
  
"You didn't know," Luke replied.  
  
No one spoke for a moment. The fans exchanged guilty looks, somewhat ashamed to have brought up painful memories for their guests. From a corner of the room, Mike snored loudly. Rachel still lay across Vader's thighs, and the cybernetic components in his legs were sending signals into his nerves that were the electronic  
  
equivalent of cramps. Diana murmured an apology as she bent to collect her daughter.  
  
"How'd you guys get here, anyway?" Liberty asked finally.  
  
"By starship, of course!" Trapper replied.  
  
"We were attempting to capture the Rebel -- Luke, you call him -- when we became stranded here," Fett answered.  
  
"They ambushed our convoy and disabled my X-wing..." Luke put in.  
  
"Then your fragging droid blew the Slave's computers and stranded us here," Fett added.  
  
"Well, if you hadn't sabotaged my starfighter..."  
  
"It was by Vader's order..."  
  
"Well, what Artoo did was not by my order, so don't blame me..."  
  
"Can't you control your own blasted..."  
  
"Hey, do we need to separate you two?" demanded Steve.  
  
"Stranded, huh?" Austin considered that. "Any chance your Imperial friends are due for a visit?"  
  
"The Stardestroyer Executor is still in your star system," Vader replied, "though it is cloaked and therefore invisible to your instruments. As our communications units are unable to reach the ship, it will take a few days before anyone realizes we're shipwrecked. They will probably send search parties within the week, however."  
  
"Uh-oh!" yelped Zack. "We're being invaded!"  
  
"I doubt the people of Earth will encounter them," Vader assured him. "They will most likely trace my last transmission to pinpoint the location of our ships, then search from there. If they do meet your fellow citizens, they will most likely be within this town."  
  
"And since all the Star Wars fanatics in the American Northwest and then some are here, they should blend right in," Conrad observed.  
  
"What about Rebs?" asked Jason. "Will they come lookin' for Luke?"  
  
"I don't know," Luke confessed. "They're... kind of busy at the moment."  
  
"They're gonna attack the second Death Star -- " gushed Trapper before Cody could clap a hand over the boy's mouth.  
  
"Mini-V, you just gave away part of the last movie!" Liz griped.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Anyone who's been paying attention to the Holonet knows the Rebels have been gathering near Sullust for weeks," Fett replied. "They're planning an all-out strike on something, and the Death Star is as good a target as any."  
  
"Ha!" Trapper crowed.  
  
"Bite me," replied Liz.  
  
"Gladly," Trapper offered, baring his teeth.  
  
"Get away from me, brat!" shrieked Liz.  
  
"Who made these movies?" asked Luke with a perplexed frown.  
  
"George Lucas," replied Liberty. "Also affectionately known as the Big GL, Uncle George, Master Jedi Lucas, or the Almightly Flanneled One."  
  
"And how does he know so much about our society?" Vader asked.  
  
"Haven't a clue," she replied. "Any other questions? I can't promise we can provide answers..."  
  
"How far away is this Lucas fellow?" Vader requested.  
  
Patrick was standing by a shelf brimming with old-style paper books, and he reached for a peculiar-looking object sitting on the top shelf. Upon further inspection it turned out to be a spherical map of Earth on a base that allowed it to rotate, with different countries or kingdoms defined by contrasting colors. He handed the globe to Jason, who located a large country in the northern hemisphere and pointed to a spot in the country's western half, deep within a mountain range.  
  
"Star City is here -- that's us," he explained. "Uncle George works on Skywalker Ranch, which I think is right... about... here." He pointed to the country's southwestern corner, near the coast. "About seven hundred miles." When his last sentence got him three blank stares he turned to the others. "Hey, how do you convert miles to kilometers again?"  
  
"Forget it," Amethyst told him with a dismissive gesture. "Let's just say its a day or two if you drive, couple hours if you fly."  
  
"You have skycars?" asked Luke, intrigued.  
  
"Nah, airplanes," Cody replied. "But since 9-11 -- we'll explain that later -- airport security's tighter than Grand Moff Tarkin's grip. I don't think there's much chance a cyborg and a walking armory can get onto a plane."  
  
"And even if you got there, I don't think they'd let you see him," Darcy added. "He's, like, up to his neck in work getting Episode III made, and they're super-secretive about that movie. And if you did get an audience with him, I don't think he'd believe you anyway."  
  
/Sithspawn/ thought Vader. He wanted to know who was supplying Mr. Lucas with inside information. The leak had to be stopped at all costs.  
  
"Actually, I think tracking down Lucas would be a good idea," Emily said. "He should know about this. And he may know how to get them back home."  
  
"That IS the reason you want to contact the Almighty Flanneled One, isn't it?" asked Sparky, arching an eyebrow. "You're not out to cut his throat to keep him from making the last movie and spilling the rest of your past, are you?"  
  
"Sparks, don't give him ideas!" Zack snapped. "Episode II was a cliffhanger, remember?"  
  
"On the contrary," Vader replied, coming up with a convenient lie. "I believe Lucas shows incredible talent. His films provide wonderful insight on the galaxy's dealings and offer a fresh angle to view our universe from. I only wish to meet this mastermind in person."  
  
"You and the rest of us," Austin said.  
  
"I'd like to punch him in the nose for making up -- um -- choosing to depict Jar Jar Binks, though," Brigham snorted.  
  
"Hey, dude, Jar Jar rules!" Cody cried.  
  
"Was he really that annoying?" asked Darcy.  
  
"I'm afraid so," Vader replied.  
  
"Why do you dress like us?" growled Fett.  
  
"Because Star Wars is much more than a collection of movies," Austin explained. "It's become a cultural phenomenon. Millions of people watch the films and eagerly await new installments. Star Wars has become a mainstay of our society."  
  
"And Star Wars freaks from all over the world are gonna be here for one massive party day after tomorrow!" exclaimed Trapper.  
  
"Actually, it's called a convention," corrected Austin. "We call it Stellar-Con."  
  
Vader recalled the sign at the town's edge, the one that had mentioned Stellar-Con and Nova-Con. So that was what it had been referring to.  
  
"Conventions are a way for fans of science fiction and fantasy to celebrate and connect," Austin went on. "Many, like Dragon*Con, are open to a wide range of fandoms, but others, like the Indianapolis Celebration, are strictly Star Wars. Every summer Star City hosts two Star Wars conventions. Stellar-Con is small for a convention. It attracts about 5,000 people on an average year."  
  
"That's still equal to Star City's normal population," Sparky pointed out.  
  
"Yes, but Nova-Con's much bigger," Austin replied. "It takes place about a month and a half after Stellar-Con. A lot of fans come for Stellar-Con and stay in town until Nova-Con's over, so the population explodes during that time between cons -- what we call the Eye of the Storm." He chuckled. "Nova-Con attracted over 20,000 guests last year."  
  
"For a small city, isn't that hard?" asked Luke.  
  
"Nah, it's good for local economy," Jason replied. "Sure, during the Eye of the Storm crime shoots through the roof and traffic's a mess, but it's a good opportunity for businesses to make an extra buck. All three theaters in this town continuously screen the movies, stores sell everything from T-shirts to fake lightsabers to raffle tickets for more valuable items, restaurants have Star Wars-themed specials, lots of businesses offer discounts for people in costume..."  
  
"And the hotels get booked solid," lamented Liz.  
  
"So the fans who weren't quick enough to make reservations camp out in the park," Emily added. "So if anyone saw you in the forest, they probably just assumed you were geeks looking for a campsite."  
  
"I see," Vader noted. "Star City profits enormously from Lucas'... adaptations."  
  
"And the residents have a good time," grinned Steve.  
  
"For the most part," added Brigham. "The mayor's threatened to discontinue the cons, but I think he'd be lynched and dragged through the streets if he actually did it."  
  
Fett shook his head as if trying to shake all this information into its proper places in his head. "I can't believe we have such a cult following on such an obscure world."  
  
"You mean you ran into the Sons of the Sith?" Cody gaped.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"He means 'cult' as in 'fanatical interest,' not 'cult' as in 'crazy warped religion,'" Liberty corrected. "Brig's faith not included."  
  
"Thanks, Libby," Brigham said. "Sons of the Sith are a LOT more obsessed than we are. So much more that they actually worship the dark side of the Force. Most of them are on drugs 75 percent of the time," he noted with a smirk. "They believe in this weird Second Coming where the Empire will supposedly convert Earth to the New Order and those who were true to the dark side will be rewarded by being made Sith Apprentices."  
  
"Apparently they forgot the 'always two' rule," said Amethyst.  
  
"Oooh, they're gonna have a heyday if they ever find out..." Diana began.  
  
"They won't," Vader replied sternly. "We won't allow ourselves to be discovered. And with circumstances the way they are, we should easily blend in."  
  
"Uh, you guys are... lacking in Earth Education," Emily pointed out. "You might need a little help so people don't raise eyebrows at Stellar-Con."  
  
"I'm not attending any convention!" Fett snarled. "I don't want to mingle with crazed fanatics! I just want the stang off this cursed planet!"  
  
"Oh, c'mon!" begged Jason. "There're cute girls in tight costumes who just LOVE to flirt with bounty hunters! And at Nova-Con all the celebrities come -- Tem Morrison, Dave Prowse, Mark Hamill, Warwick Davis, George Lucas..."  
  
That caught Vader's attention. "Lucas will be there?"  
  
"That's tentative," Diana replied. "If work on Episode III is on schedule, he and a handful of the cast may put in an appearance at Nova-Con to sign autographs."  
  
/Most excellent/ Vader thought.  
  
"Then it is decided," he announced. "You teach us of your culture, and we remain here until Nova-Con, at which point we will question Lucas and see if he is able to aid us." Fett started to protest, but Vader eyed him coolly, and the hunter subsided.  
  
Mike's snoring brought the discussions to a halt.  
  
"We'll talk more in the morning," Austin offered. "Meeting adjourned."  
  
"Pat, Jason, can I spend the night?" yawned Brigham. "I'm too pooped to drive."  
  
"It's three in the friggin' morning," mumbled Liz. "We're all too tired to drive."  
  
Jason turned to his brother. "Pat, impromptu slumber party?"  
  
Patrick nodded.  
  
"Y'all can crash wherever floats your boat," he announced. "Our place is open tonight. Just don't trash anything."  
  
Vader couldn't suppress a triumphant chuckle as Jason pulled out an inflatable sleeping pad for him to sleep on. All was proceeding smoothly. He didn't doubt that Lucas would know how to send them back to Imperial space. Now all he had to do was lay low until Nova-Con. Then, once he could meet the man face to face, he would  
  
question him about a way of leaving the planet and the source of his information. Then, as Sparky had unwittingly pointed out, it would be necessary to... silence him. Further details of his past could not escape.  
  
Lucas had to die.  
  
***  
  
Luke shifted to get comfortable on the kitchen floor and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. On the counter island, Cody lay on his back and snored with great gusto. But it wasn't the Earth man's nocturnal noises that were keeping the young Jedi awake.  
  
Now, more than ever, he wanted to bring his father out of hiding. He had seen the good man concealed behind Vader's mask. He had gotten a tantalizing glimpse of both parents in Episode II, and Vader was his only means of obtaining more information about them.  
  
And he loved him. Inexplicably, he loved Anakin Skywalker, despite his flaws. Or perhaps because of them, for Luke had suffered from some of the same shortcomings in his lifetime. He couldn't hold his father responsible for his dark actions, for they were not his own. They were Vader's. As Ben had said, he had to destroy Vader. But despite Ben's implication that he must die, Luke planned on destroying Vader but leaving Anakin intact. However to do it, though...  
  
Could that final, unplayed movie be the key? "Return of the Jedi," they called it. It contained tantalizing secrets for him. He wondered what mysteries lay within the plastic case. Would he end up redeeming his father, smashing the vessel of Vader that Anakin might emerge from hiding? Would Luke join the dark side, becoming everything he loathed? Would Leia ever learn the truth of her parentage? Would she and Han ever finally commit themselves to each other? Would the Rebellion succeed in destroying the Death Star?  
  
He considered sneaking into the living room, inserting the tape into the vidscreen, and finding answers to his questions then and there. But, he realized, there were people sleeping in there, Vader included. He had felt the panic rising from the Dark Lord when the fans had mentioned watching the final film (odd, Luke had never thought anything could make Vader panic), so he knew he would not be amused if he woke to find Luke playing the movie. Perhaps if he kept the volume down... He rose and picked his way over prone bodies.  
  
As he passed the shelf crammed with books, he paused to examine the tomes. Old Basic was sparingly used outside this system, but it was still common enough in some venues that many learned it in conjunction with Aurebesh. And books -- real, paper-paged, ink-printed bound volumes -- were a very rare commodity thanks to datapads and electronic documents. He'd never seen more than half a dozen real books in one place until now. Here there had to be dozens. He smiled. If Han were here, he'd be talking about how much these books would bring on the collector's market.  
  
As he ran his hand across the book spines, his fingers came into contact with an interesting title:  
  
"Return of the Jedi -- the Novelization -- by James Kahn."  
  
Hmmm.  
  
He discreetly pulled the book off the shelf, then returned to his patch of linoleum to read.  
  
***  
  
/I can't believe this is happening to me./  
  
Fett disliked comfort -- it led to carelessness, which in turn led to error. A bounty hunter could not afford error. Therefore a comfortable bed for the night was out of the question. So though Jason had offered to give up his sleeping quarters for him, he had declined. Instead he asked Patrick to show him to an area where he would be just uncomfortable enough to remain on guard. After offering Fett a puzzled look, he'd suggested the hunter sleep in the bathtub.  
  
As he moved his legs into a more suitable position, the clang and scrape of armor on porcelain echoed through the refresher. What a bizarre twist of fate. One day he was the galaxy's most legendary bounty hunter, feared by all; the next he was sarlaac chow; and the day after that he was a pop celebrity on some wretched world, sleeping in a fanatic's bathroom. And worse, he was dependent on these people until they could find a way to flee the planet!  
  
Well then, he'd play along. He'd play their game, learn their ways, become one of them for a month and a half. A hunter often had to adapt to his surroundings to survive, and he was the master hunter. Therefore, he would alter himself just enough to blend with this planet's inhabitants. He'd become an Earth being until they met this mysterious Lucas and could get back to civilized space.  
  
He wrapped a hand around his blaster, a precaution if he was ambushed in his sleep, and dozed off. 


	8. Crash Course

Part VIII -- Crash Course  
  
Vader wondered how anyone could sleep in such a ridiculous position as he stared at Austin. The man lay stretched out on the couch, head hanging off one armrest, legs draped over the other. Small wonder he had chosen Vader's armor as a costume -- he was too large to make a suitable replica of any other character, excluding perhaps a Wookie. The leader of Vader's Elite didn't show any signs of discomfort, so he paid him no more mind.  
  
The Dark Lord himself lay on an inflatable mattress on the living room floor. Mike, Trapper, and Steve were visible as gently pulsing humps beneath layers of blankets and sleeping bags, while Brigham sat up near the vidscreen and leafed through a book. Zack looked like a child's doll flung haphazardly in a chair, mouth open, a whining snore whistling from his throat. He could hear Luke stirring in the kitchen and Brigham muttering to himself as he browsed a particularly interesting section of whatever he was reading.  
  
Silvery dawn light filled the house, signaling the beginning of a new day. The first day of his tenure on Earth. One day less before he had Lucas in his grasp. He knew the fans would highly disapprove of his plot to terminate the man, so he would have to be stealthy about it. Which shouldn't be a problem -- for the most part, Earth humans seemed pretty Force-blind, not to mention clueless.  
  
As the room brightened people began shifting, and the house filled with yawns, sleepy groans, and pops from stretched joints. Many of the Elite were still in their costumes, not having thought to change out of them before falling asleep.  
  
"My neck hurts," Mike complained as he massaged the back of his head.  
  
"Comes from sleeping in your helmet," Steve replied as he kicked off his coverings. He had forgotten to wash his face before retiring, and as a result his makeup was badly smudged. "I didn't sleep with my contacts in, did I?"  
  
"Nope," said Mike after taking a look.  
  
"I look like crap," Liz complained as she entered the room, smoothing wrinkles out of her tunic.  
  
"Join the club," Steve retorted.  
  
"Men can look sloppy," Liz shot back. "It's practically expected." She glanced at Vader. "No offense. But heaven forbid a woman look sloppy in public, or she's either feminist or lesbian. And I gotta be somewhere today. So dibs on the can."  
  
"You aren't staying to help us teach our guests about our planet?" asked Austin, moving to a sitting position.  
  
She shook her head. "Gotta go throw myself between the cogs of bureaucracy."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Vader, puzzled.  
  
"I'm renewing my driver's license," she replied. "It expires today, and I'm NOT walking to the convention."  
  
Steve chuckled. "Talk about waiting 'til the last minute."  
  
"Wanna hear an absolutely tasteless joke?" asked Zack.  
  
Austin shrugged. "Why not?"  
  
"What does it mean when the flag at White Deer County Department of Motor Vehicles is at half mast?"  
  
"Search me."  
  
"It means they're hiring."  
  
Steve burst into laughter and fell on his side, shaking with his guffaws. Mike and Austin responded in kind. Trapper and Vader, not getting the joke, simply stared at Zack, while Brigham just rolled his eyes and continued reading.  
  
"That's awful!" Liz shrieked before retreating to the refresher.  
  
"Hey, it's funny!" Mike shouted at her.  
  
"Cheap laughs for simple minds," Vader remarked dryly.  
  
That only cracked the men up even more. Precisely his point.  
  
He retrieved his neatly folded cloak from the coffee table and fastened it about his neck, then stood and entered the kitchen. Jason and Cody were sitting on stools at the counter island eating cereal while Patrick busied himself at a cooking unit, frying eggs. Luke had his nose buried in a book -- "Splinter of the Mind's Eye" by one Alan Dean Foster -- as he sipped a glass of steaming dark fluid. He suspected it was some sort of caf, but the price of wearing the respirator was that his sense of smell was virtually nonexistent.  
  
"Good morning, Vader," greeted Patrick as he looked up from his cooking.  
  
"I forgive you this once as you are not an official resident of the Empire," Vader replied. "But from this moment onward you will address me as 'my Lord.'"  
  
"Man, someone's got an ego," Cody muttered, and he suddenly took an intense fascination in his cereal. Vader pretended not to notice.  
  
"Excuse me," corrected Patrick with an understanding nod. "Good morning, my Lord."  
  
"You're lucky, Vader -- ah, Lord Vader," Jason told him. "Pat don't say 'good morning' to just anyone. Most of us just get grunts. Care for coffee?" He gestured at a pitcher of caf.  
  
"Thank you," Vader replied as Cody passed him a mug. He poured himself a measure of caf -- coffee. Whatever this was.  
  
Cody watched in fascination as Vader cupped the mug in his hands. He returned the man's gaze. What in the galaxy was his problem?  
  
"It is impolite to stare," he informed him.  
  
"Sorry, Vader -- oops, Lord Vader," Cody replied hastily, but he continued to stare.  
  
"Cody, you're scaring him," Jason chided.  
  
"I'm just curious," he shot back. "How do you... uh... I mean... how are you gonna... well... do you have to take it off to eat?"  
  
In answer Vader raised his free hand to his chest, struck a button, and raised the cup to his lips. At least he retained his ability to taste, even if this coffee of theirs was bitter enough to curl a Neimodian's lips.  
  
"Oh, I see," Cody observed, nodding. "You can open that vent thing in your mask. I always wondered how you ate."  
  
"I can only manage it for short periods of time," he replied, closing the vent again. "Is there another beverage available? How you can drink this swill is beyond me."  
  
"Emily made the coffee, so blame her if it's bad," Jason told him as he rummaged through some sort of cold-storage unit. "We've got milk, orange juice, some soda... Patrick, where'd the beer go?"  
  
"Threw it out," Patrick replied.  
  
"Dang it." He removed a jug of light orange liquid and slammed the unit. "You were always the prohibitionist in the family. Try this."  
  
"You know, the eating question brings up another interesting question about Vader's necessary functions -- ow!" Cody yelped and rubbed his shoulder, which Patrick had slapped with the spatula he was holding.  
  
"A question whose answer is for me to know and you to speculate," Vader finished for Cody.  
  
When he laid eyes on Luke, he wanted to deal out a slap of his own. The boy was grinning stupidly at him like a child bursting with a juicy secret. It was a smile that quite clearly said "I know something you don't." Vader groaned inwardly. Was he always this transparent?  
  
"What is it?" he demanded.  
  
"Oh, nothing," Luke replied, busying himself with his reading.  
  
Vader was about to probe his son when Brigham stumped into the kitchen, holding a blue-covered book whose pages were edged in gold leaf. He muttered to himself as he hoisted himself onto a counter.  
  
"You don't look so good, Brig," Jason noted. "Coffee?"  
  
Brigham shot him a dirty look. "You know I don't drink it."  
  
"Well, excuse me for being a good host," Jason huffed. "You look like you've been up all night stewing over something. How 'bout some Pepsi instead?"  
  
"That's 'cause I HAVE been up all night stewing over something," Brigham replied, catching the can Jason tossed at him. "I've poured through the scriptures for hours, and I can't find a danged-blasted reference about alien life anywhere!" He took a long swig and wiped his mouth with his fingers. "You'd think our religious leaders would give us a little fair warning, but no!"  
  
"Religion doesn't answer all questions," Luke noted. "Some you have to figure out for yourself."  
  
"Still, something this important could be mentioned at least once..." began Brigham.  
  
"Who's the one who was quoting something about 'I, the Lord God, have created worlds without number' the other day?" Amethyst said, walking into the kitchen. "Mornin' Luke, Lord Vader."  
  
"Yeah, it says that somewhere," Brigham confessed. "But it says absolutely nothing about the life on those worlds actually dropping by for a visit."  
  
"And you're gonna go atheist over it?" inquired Amethyst.  
  
"Of course not! It's just... frustrating, that's all."  
  
Jason looked about to reply with some derogatory comment, but the unmistakable whine of a blaster and the rending sound of shattering glass cut him off. Someone began screaming, and Jason and Patrick were instantly on their feet.  
  
"What was that?" gasped Jason. "It came from the bathroom!"  
  
"Boba Fett!" Patrick cried, running out of the room.  
  
"Whaddaya mean Boba Fett?" demanded Jason as he followed his brother.  
  
Amethyst groaned. "Liz woke Boba up, huh?"  
  
"Boba Fett was sleeping in the bathroom?" asked Vader in disbelief.  
  
"Yup."  
  
Liz entered the kitchen, fuming mad, her dark hair in wild disarray. Liberty was close behind her, trying vainly to calm her down, and Fett and the Osmonds came in last. Fett was still clutching his blaster and looked as if he itched to use it again.  
  
"What happened?" asked Austin, jogging into the kitchen. "Anyone hurt?"  
  
"No, just startled," Liberty told him, tugging on her cloak. In one of those odd and totally inappropriate observations one tended to make in times of crisis, Vader saw her cape had been embroidered in metallic thread and bore an elaborate image of a serpentine beast that resembled a cross between a krayt dragon and a colo claw fish.  
  
"Well, what happened?" Austin repeated.  
  
"Liz went into the bathroom without realizing Boba was in the tub. He was still half-asleep, so he took her as a threat and shot. Thankfully he missed, but it looks like we need to replace the mirror."  
  
"A lesson, Liz," Fett rasped. "Do not surprise an armed man."  
  
"Lesson for YOU!" Liz shot back. "Look before you pull the trigger!"  
  
"Maybe you both need to exercise a little more awareness from here on out," Austin suggested. "Can you do that?"  
  
They glared at each other before reluctantly nodding.  
  
"Good. Now Boba, could you sweep up the glass in the bathroom please? Liz, you can shower in the upstairs bathroom while he cleans up."  
  
"Hasn't even been twenty-four hours and they've shot at us!" grumped Liz. "At this rate, we're all gonna be dead by Nova-Con!"  
  
"Can it, Liz," Liberty snapped.  
  
"We will not allow such a situation to occur again," Vader assured him.  
  
"Thank you," said Austin gratefully. "So once everyone's eaten breakfast, shall we begin our little Earth Culture and Society 101 class?"  
  
Liz fixed Austin with a skeptical look. "Have you ever attempted to explain American culture to someone who's had absolutely no contact with our country?"  
  
"Well, no," confessed Austin, "but how hard can it be?"  
  
***  
  
It was pretty hard, and Austin wondered if it would be a better use of his time and energy to simply beat his head against a wall.  
  
It wasn't entirely their guests' fault. The problem lay in having so many "teachers." Everyone had agreed their visitors should learn the most important information first. The problem was, no one could agree just what was the most important information. They had managed to explain their calendar and monetary system, but after  
  
that everyone had different ideas as to what should be taught next.  
  
Privately Austin thought they should talk about the conventions themselves, since Vader had expressed interest in attending them. But Amethyst insisted they should know something about pop culture -- "It would be pretty much a dead giveaway if someone asked them about the new 'Lord of the Rings' movie and they didn't have a clue," she had reasoned. Sparky suggested a geography lesson, while Cody demanded a chance to talk about the Expanded Universe. Conrad thought explaining Earth slang and figures of speech was necessary; Darcy argued a lesson on Earth fauna and flora was in order. Brigham, inexplicably, found this to be the perfect forum for introducing Mormonism to their guests.  
  
"Will everyone SHUT UP?!" screamed Fett, cutting off the argument just as Amethyst and Cody were about to come to blows again.  
  
"One thing at a time!" ordered Austin. "You're confusing them when you all talk at once!"  
  
"So let me get this straight," said Luke. "Your planet's surface is seventy percent water, but you call it Earth. Your government is called a republic or a democracy, but Republican and Democratic parties are two separate things. Your country's ruled by a president named Corran Horn..."  
  
"Corran Horn is a Jedi Knight in the New Jedi Order series," Cody corrected. "The president's name is George W. Bush."  
  
"I thought the Jedi was Joseph Smith."  
  
"That's a different guy..." began Brigham.  
  
"Okay, so your president is from a country called Texas... and who's Elvis again?"  
  
"A musician," Sparky clarified.  
  
"Oh, he's the rapper, right? Or was that Harrison Ford?"  
  
"My point exactly," Austin said. "Let's do this one subject at a time..."  
  
"Can I talk first?" begged Cody.  
  
"I suggest," Austin replied, "that we discuss the most relevant things first -- namely, how to survive at Stellar-Con. Everything else can wait. And Brigham, quit trying to convert them. You're off your mission, remember?"  
  
"Just trying to do the Lord's work," he protested, but he put away his pamphlets anyway.  
  
"What do we need to know to survive at Stellar-Con?" asked Vader. "You say it as if we're going into a battle."  
  
"You are, in a way," Diana replied. "Fans of other science fiction books and movies often come here to harass us. And they especially like to pick on those who try to pass themselves off as Star Wars characters. So its important for you to blend in as much as possible."  
  
"First order of business, you'll need to go by different names," Conrad added.  
  
"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Luke.  
  
"Hmmm." Liberty cupped the chin of her mask in one hand as she considered. "Luke, you'll go by Nick Sorenson. Fett'll be Robert Francis, and Lord Vader we'll call David McKnight. That work?"  
  
The three of them nodded assent.  
  
"I'll whip up some IDs for you tonight and get 'em to you in the morning," Steve offered.  
  
"I say show them 'Return of the Jedi' so they don't get confused when somebody brings up Ewoks," Zack said.  
  
"No, that's not necessary..." began Luke.  
  
"'Course it's not," Trapper interrupted. "I saw you reading the book when I went into the kitchen for a drink this morning."  
  
"Did you really?" demanded Emily, more amused than upset.  
  
Luke blushed. "I've actually been skimming more of your books to see if they were accurate too. 'Splinter of the Mind's Eye' was completely off target."  
  
"Oh," Cody said, looking rather dejected. "I guess that means all the books are wrong."  
  
"'Jedi' might still be right," Conrad pointed out.  
  
"We'll worry about 'Jedi' later," Austin said sternly.  
  
"About Stellar-Con," Darcy said. "Rebels and Imperials -- or those dressed like them -- tend to hang with their kind. So don't mix with Rebs unless they invite you to do so. Luke, you'll have to stay in your snowtrooper gear awhile. Be nice to kids -- they'll be everywhere. Oh, and don't do this." She held up one hand in the Trekkie sign. "Sorry, but I had to show them. Don't pound me."  
  
"We won't," replied Zack.  
  
"I wouldn't have thought about making that gesture if you hadn't told us," Luke said.  
  
"Just thought I'd warn you. Star Trek fans do that, and Trekkies and Stargeeks have a bit of a rivalry between them. At the cons, giving the Trekkie sign is the same as giving the finger." She saw Luke's blank expression. "An upraised middle finger basically means 'Screw you.'"  
  
"Ah," was all Luke said.  
  
"What of the droid?" Vader asked. "Someone we met on the way here mentioned a Droid Builder's Club..."  
  
"Artoo's waaaaayyyyyyy too close to the real thing to pass off as a fan creation," Brigham replied.  
  
"That's 'cause he IS the real thing!" Rachel pointed out.  
  
"I know that!" Brigham replied. "Which is why he's gonna have to be a no-show. How having an astromech tag along hasn't given you away before now is nothing short of a miracle."  
  
As if on a prearranged cue Artoo bolted into the room as fast as his wheels could carry him, shrieking like a banshee. From Patrick's bedroom came a loud insistent beeping which Patrick went to investigate. Only a moment passed between his departure and a loud spate of completely un-Patrick-like speech.  
  
"What the hell?! What did he do?! ****ing droid playing ****ing Mr. Fixit with my computer!"  
  
Artoo tried to hide behind Sparky's wheelchair. The Elite's second-in-command craned his neck to peer behind him, then noted dryly "I guess Artoo's not welcome with the Osmonds any longer."  
  
"He can come to my apartment," Steve volunteered. "My landlady says no pets, but she hasn't said anything about droids."  
  
"Fett can room with us," offered Jason.  
  
"That leaves Luke and Vader," Austin announced. "Anyone willing to put one of them up for the Eye of the Storm?"  
  
"Sorry, but there's no way I can get my apartment de-junked in time," Mike said.  
  
"And I'm in my apartment on the condition that I have no long-term guests," Emily added.  
  
"Luke and I will remain together for the duration of this Eye of the Storm," Vader stated firmly.  
  
"Sorry, Lord Vader, but I think it would be best if we split all of you up," Austin replied. "None of us are equipped to handle more than one guest for a month and a half..."  
  
Vader stood, regarding Austin as one might regard a glob of unidentifiable matter scraped off their shoe. Until now Austin hadn't really taken the Sith's size into much consideration, but now he could fully appreciate why the people of the Empire were scared stupid of him. The guy was ENORMOUS. Not just tall, but solidly built, broad shouldered and deep chested. Austin was about Vader's height but scrawny in comparison, and so gave the appearance of shorter stature. To make matters worse, the Dark Lord was plainly irritated by Austin's last comment, and if the movies had accurately portrayed his patience level, Austin was really in for it.  
  
"Austin Powers, Skywalker is my prisoner," he boomed. "And as such he is not to leave my sight. I have had him within my grasp and lost him enough times to know he is not one to be taken lightly. If you insist he be separated from me, I will comply, but YOU will answer to the Emperor if he escapes. And the Emperor is not as forgiving as I am."  
  
A chorus of "oohs" came from the audience.  
  
Austin sucked in his breath, trying to mask the fact that he was sweating like a marathon runner under Vader's scrutiny.  
  
"Lord Vader..." The title came out an octave higher than Austin would have liked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Lord Vader," he repeated in a calmer tone, "let me ask you -- if Luke gets away, where is he going to go? Back to your ships? By your own admission all three of them are currently broken down or otherwise unable to take off. He has no way to leave the system, no way to contact the Alliance, and no chance of making it very far on this world without being tossed into a mental ward for psychosis. In short, he is not only a prisoner of you, but of this world. I don't think you have to worry much about him trying to run."  
  
Vader glowered a moment longer, then slowly nodded. "Very well, Austin. I charge you with Luke's welfare." And he sat back down.  
  
Austin nearly passed out with relief. He wondered just how close he had come to being telekinetically throttled.  
  
"Dad, are you having a heart attack?" asked Trapper.  
  
He realized he was clutching his chest. "I'm fine, just a little nervous," he assured his son. "Not every day someone spars with Darth Vader and lives to tell the tale."  
  
"Can Luke sleep in my room?"  
  
He laughed. "We'll see, son."  
  
"Vader can stay at my place!" announced Cody.  
  
"No, mine!" argued Zack.  
  
"Daddy, I want him to stay with us!" wailed Rachel.  
  
"Sweetheart, that's up to him to decide," Conrad told her.  
  
Vader's gaze went from Zack to Conrad to Cody as he considered the offers.  
  
"Um, actually, I take that back," Zack corrected. "My mom won't like it if I bring in another convention guest. Last one wrecked her bathroom."  
  
Vader stared at him. "You are how old?"  
  
"Twenty-eight, why?"  
  
"And you still live with your mother?"  
  
"Classic geek, ain't he?" Cody smirked. "Don't worry, I'm not that lame. I have a dorm at the community college in King Valley, just ten miles from here. My roommates are all home for the summer, so you're welcome. As long as you can tolerate all the noise from the events center and aren't allergic to the green stuff in the shower, you should be fine."  
  
The Dark Lord thought about that a moment, which was all it would take for anyone to make this type of decision.  
  
"Very well," he replied. "Conrad and Diana's home it is." 


	9. The Innocence Of a Child

Part IX -- The Innocence of a Child  
  
It had been a long day, and Luke was glad of the chance to go outside and enjoy the evening air. The Osmond's house lay on the very edge of this town and so offered a beautiful view of the thickly forested park Star City bordered. Magnificent evergreens perfumed the air with their pungent earthy scent. A breeze touched the trees and set their needles to whispering. In the distance a bird trilled, answered by the chatter of some small, territorial animal.  
  
Rachel trotted out the door and spun around, giggling, no doubt glad for a chance to stretch her legs. Luke couldn't help smiling at the girl, so young and innocent, free of troubles and worries. He had been that way once, but he had longed to escape that innocence and experience adventure and excitement. Now he'd had much more than his share of those, but in the process had lost something very precious -- the thing that made  
  
this child so endearing.  
  
"Watching her, are you?"  
  
He whirled. He hadn't heard Vader approach.  
  
"I thought you were going with the Churches," Luke said.  
  
"I will, once Diana and Darcy stop gossiping." He continued to study Luke, an unnerving habit that made Luke wonder if he was examining him for flaws. "You need a great deal more training if you cannot sense the approach of a man wearing a respiration unit."  
  
Recalling Darcy's little stealth tactic that had blown their cover in the first place, Luke chose not to reply.  
  
Trapper and Rachel were chasing each other around in circles on the lawn now, squealing and laughing. Rachel stepped on the hem of her Tusken robes and tumbled onto the grass. Trapper flung himself down beside her, and they continued to giggle as they folded their arms behind their heads in makeshift pillows and stared into the sapphire sky.  
  
Sensing his thoughts, Vader remarked cynically "They will grow up, as all must do. They will mature and learn that the existence they thought was simply black and white is various shades of gray. And with that revelation will come the shedding of youth and all that it entails -- naiveté, foolish imaginings, impossible flights of fancy. It is inevitable."  
  
"You sound as if you know that from experience."  
  
"I should think you would know that as well."  
  
"For me, the moment I lost my innocence was the moment I learned that which I loathed with all my soul and that which I longed for with all my heart were one and the same." Those words came out with an anger he couldn't quite suppress.  
  
"So you hate me."  
  
"I hate what you have become," Luke clarified, "but not what you once were. Nor what you could still become."  
  
There was a moment of silence that seemed an hour. Steve's car pulled away with a good-bye blast of its horn.  
  
Luke decided to try a line from "Return of the Jedi" on his father. What could it hurt? It had seemed to soften Vader's heart in the book.  
  
"I know there is good in you," he recited, choosing words that mirrored what he felt. "I know the Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully."  
  
Vader didn't seem to hear. When Luke touched him with the Force he had to draw back from the violence, the turbulence, a feeling of upheaval he'd noted earlier during their viewing of "Attack of the Clones" but hadn't really considered until now.  
  
"I can feel the conflict within you! Let go of your hate!"  
  
No answer. Cody burst from the house, laughing uncontrollably and making remarks about Maria von Trapp. Amethyst was right behind, practically frothing at the mouth and threatening to do serious bodily damage if he didn't shut up.  
  
"Stop it," Vader replied finally.  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Trying to play hero." His fist balled up, the leather glove pulling taut over his knuckles. "You cannot save me, Luke. No one can. It will only get you killed. If you want to save someone, save yourself." And he stormed away.  
  
"Wait!" Luke called, running to catch up. "Father, I'm not going to give up. I thought I'd lost my father once, and I'm not going to lose him again. I know there is still a shred of light inside you, and you know it, or you wouldn't admit you needed saving!"  
  
Vader's gaze was like fire's heat on his brow.  
  
"Luke, you do not know the power of the dark side," he groaned. "I must obey my master."  
  
The words dragged out of his voice synthesizer, soaked with the pain of two decades of bondage and agony. Though he'd read this very phrase in "Jedi," the double meaning of it struck Luke heavily. He was no almighty Imperial leader, but a pawn in the service of a tyrannical master. The dark side gave power to its servants, but at the same time chained them into lifelong slavery, exacting a dear price.  
  
"It is too late for me," Vader continued. "Do as you will, Skywalker. Your life is still your own. Mine is not. It never was."  
  
With that cryptic remark, he departed in a swirl of black cloth.  
  
Luke stared after him in shock.  
  
/He has to follow his own path. No one can choose it for him./  
  
Leia. She had said those words so long ago, when Han had delivered the two of them to Yavin and was about to leave with his reward. And like it or not, they applied in this situation as well. Luke couldn't force Vader to turn. Vader had to choose to renounce the dark side on his own.  
  
/Once down the dark path you start, forever will it dominate your destiny./  
  
Yoda's words, once a caution to an upstart apprentice, were now Luke's bane. If Yoda was correct, there was no redemption for his father. Vader had chosen a grim and twisted road to travel, a road with no end, if Yoda were right. And there was no turning around, no exit.  
  
Well, Luke wasn't going to accept that. He was going to give Vader as many detours on the dark road as possible.  
  
A metallic clang elicited giggles from onlookers as the Dark Lord hit his head trying to climb into the Church's van. Rachel scrambled in after him. Could she and her odd fondness for Vader be the key?  
  
/Please work on him for me, little one/ he prayed silently. /Let there be something you can do for him./  
  
He was startled to receive a reply.  
  
/He sounds funny when he snores. I heard him last night./  
  
/Rachel?/  
  
/I'll help him. He's not bad, or he wouldn't have let me sit on his lap last night./  
  
Rachel Church, a Force-strong Earth human? But it couldn't be. Could it? Luke just shook his head in amazement. Surely Vader would see that. Luke could only hope her power wouldn't doom her as it had doomed many others.  
  
"Luke, this train's leaving!" shouted Austin.  
  
"On my way!"  
  
***  
  
  
  
"And this is my room," Trapper announced, indicating the last stop in their grand tour with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "I dunno where you're sleeping, but it sure isn't here."  
  
Luke could see why not. That there was any room for Trapper to sleep at night was a wonder. Every inch of space had been devoted to Star Wars memorabilia -- shelves and boxes and piles of it. Movie and character posters, lovingly framed, practically crammed any space not occupied by shelves overflowing with starship models and action figures. Gaps left by the varying sizes of the posters were filled with autographed photos  
  
of Star Wars celebrities (Luke was amused to discover a Mark Hamill picture that depicted what he would probably look like in another twenty years). Toys littered the floor, the bedside table, the small desk where he probably did schoolwork, even the bed.  
  
"Nice room," Luke noted, impressed. "Got yourself quite the collection."  
  
"I'm not a true collector," the boy admitted. "True collectors don't open the packages. They keep all their Star Wars stuff in acid-free airtight boxes away from direct sunlight in some vault somewhere. 'It'll pay for your college tuition someday if you keep it in mint condition,' they tell me. Phooey. What good is a Battle Action Reek if you can't play with it?"  
  
"Your logic astounds me, Trapper."  
  
"Thank you." He motioned Luke out. "I think you have to sleep in the living room. The couch folds out into a bed, so it won't be too bad. C'mon, I'll show you how to play 'Star Wars Racer' on the Playstation! It's my favorite game."  
  
Luke accepted with a grateful smile. Between the Earth lessons and his discussion with his father it had been a long day, and he felt he deserved a break.  
  
***  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Jason insisted for the fourth time. "I told you it wouldn't be a problem to fix up a spare room for you..."  
  
"And I told you, Jason, the bathtub will continue to do," Fett growled.  
  
Jason shrugged. "Whatever. Join us for dinner? We got hot dogs tonight."  
  
Fett gave him a hard stare that, even through the mask, plainly said "What do YOU think?"  
  
"Okaaaaayyyy," Jason replied. "I guess we fix a plate for you and put it in the fridge. But I don't know why you're so hyper about it. We've all seen your old man unmasked, and since you're his clone..." His voice trailed off as the hunter continued to glower. "Never mind. Uh, would you like a pillow or blanket or..."  
  
"No thank you," Fett replied firmly.  
  
He paced through the house, familiarizing himself with it, counting entry points and calculating different escape routes and hiding spots. His first observation was that the Osmonds' home seemed too large for two young men. His second was that the place was an absolute mess, as one would expect two bachelors' home to be. Miniature forests of mold flourished on abandoned plates here and there, and judging from the amount of clothing heaped hither and yon, they probably only did laundry when absolutely necessary. The bathrooms, thankfully, were the cleanest spots in the house.  
  
"Why do two men need such a big house?" he asked, stepping over a stack of outdated newspapers.  
  
"Oh, it's not ours," Jason replied. "Our grandma owns it. But she's retired in Florida, and we had to move out of our old pad in a hurry, so she lets us live here. All we pay our utilities. So what are you planning on doing the rest of the night? Pat and I're gonna be watching a movie."  
  
Fett shrugged. "I might as well join you."  
  
"Cool! Hope you like 'Monty Python.'"  
  
***  
  
The lights were off in the guest room of the Church's house as Vader sat cross-legged on the bed, a hand on each knee, deep in meditation. Lost in the Force, he followed its currents and tides, feeling it course through his body, the room, the house. It was the power that he had governed and that had governed him all his life, as inseparable from him as his lifeblood. His gift and curse.  
  
His son... his very flesh and blood. What a noble and ultimately stupid cause he had committed himself to. The boy was full of impossible hopes. Didn't he know that one caught within the dark side's grips could never be freed? Over the course of the Jedi Order's existence dozens of Jedi had switched allegiances to the dark, but no Sith or other dark-side wielder had converted to the light. It was impossible, for while the light gave its adherents the choice of leaving if they wished, the dark forbade its followers from departing its clutches.  
  
But Luke was determined to do it. And that would be his undoing. For he was unwilling to run from Vader in his devotion to his cause, and would follow him blindly back to the Emperor. His master would then proceed to twist the young Skywalker into a being of unredeemable corruption.  
  
/As he twisted you./  
  
Luke was right. He was in conflict. He hated his master, but longed to serve him. He hated the power of the dark side, yet reveled in it when it rose to his bidding. Like an addict coming to grips with his addiction, he loathed and lusted for the dark. But was he so much of a power-mad monster that he would doom his son to the same fate?  
  
"Are you asleep?"  
  
His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see Rachel staring at him, out of her Tusken costume and dressed in pastel nightclothes. She had long brown hair that reached her knees and wide hazel eyes. In one arm she clutched Mori, in the other she held a book. And she glowed in the framework of the Force, as bright as the young Jedi trainees he had met on his first visit to the Jedi Temple as a boy.  
  
/She's strong! How could I have missed that?/  
  
Aloud he said "In our culture, we usually knock before entering a room."  
  
"I did, but you didn't answer," she replied as if that excused her. She climbed onto the bed beside him and arranged herself until her pose mirrored his. "Whatcha doin'?"  
  
"Meditating."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"I'm listening to the Force."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She was silent for awhile. Confident that she would no longer interrupt him, he began to slip back into contemplation.  
  
"Can you read me a story?"  
  
His head snapped around to face her. "What?"  
  
"I said, can you read me a story?" She thrust her book at him.  
  
He was absolutely stunned at her request. In twenty-four years of servitude to the Empire, no child had ever dared approach him. His appearance was so terrifying that any children he happened to meet ran shrieking in terror. In some sectors of the galaxy parents used him as a sort of boogeyman to scare children into obedience, a practice he did not discourage. And here was this girl, asking him to read a book to her as if he were her uncle or grandfather.  
  
At last he found words. "No, Rachel. Ask your parents."  
  
"But I want you to!" She stuck her lip out in a pout.  
  
"No, Rachel."  
  
"Please?" she whined, batting her eyes in an expression that would have melted a lesser man's heart.  
  
"For the last time, no! Now get out!"  
  
Despite his hard tone, she only recoiled slightly, though he had spoken at a volume that would have sent his subordinate officers quivering in terror. She did put the book down, however.  
  
"Why are you so grumpy?" she demanded.  
  
He sighed and unfolded his legs. As long as he wasn't going to get any meditating done he might as well answer her questions.  
  
"Rachel, do you know what a castaway is?"  
  
"Uh-uh."  
  
"That's what I am. A castaway is someone far from home who can't get back."  
  
"Oh, so you're shipwrecked! Like on 'Swiss Family Robinson!'"  
  
He nodded. "I have to get back to my Stardestroyer... my starship so I can talk to the Emperor. Do you know who he is?"  
  
"Yeah. I don't like him. He's ugly."  
  
He had to concede that point. "But the ships we used to land on your planet are broken and I can't get back to my big ship."  
  
She nodded understandingly. "So you're mad 'cause you can't talk to your boss."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"So just tell him you're late 'cause your ships broke. Daddy's boss isn't mad when he's late for work 'cause his car broke."  
  
"If only it were that simple," Vader murmured, more to himself than to her. "The Emperor is not a forgiving man. He believes there is no accident that cannot be prevented."  
  
"Pur-vented means stopped, huh?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She considered that.  
  
"I think your boss is really mean," she concluded finally.  
  
Her frankness startled him. That a mere child could recognize the Emperor's cruelty and he couldn't bring himself to admit it was remarkable. Had his desperate need for a master, a father figure, blinded him so much to the Emperor's sadistic definition of a student-master relationship?  
  
He looked back at Rachel with renewed respect, only to see that she had once again jammed the book at him.  
  
"Could you PLEASE read me a story?"  
  
With a sigh Vader took the book from her. It was the least he could do.  
  
"You'll like this one," she said delightedly as he glanced at the title -- "Rumplestiltskin" -- and flipped past the title pages.  
  
"Once upon a time," he read, "there lived a miller in a faraway kingdom who had a beautiful young daughter. One day the king was riding through the land to visit his subjects, and he stopped at the miller's home to talk. Now the miller was a bit of a liar, and so he told the king 'My daughter can spin straw into gold...'" 


	10. Aggressive Negotiations

Part X -- Aggressive Negotiations  
  
Luke wouldn't have been so reluctant to get out of bed if it hadn't been for the airhorn blaring in his ear at seven A.M.  
  
"Up and at 'em!" bellowed Trapper, giving the horn another blast. "Opening ceremonies for Stellar-Con start at nine!"  
  
"Mrrggghhmmmnnn." Luke grudgingly lifted his head out of the blankets to see Trapper sitting on the edge of the bed, giving him a reproachful stare. Did he ever change out of that costume?  
  
"Trapper, let him sleep if he wants," Austin scolded from the computer desk. "We've got an hour before we need to leave."  
  
"He's okay," Luke mumbled, sitting up and peeling off the bedcovers. "I was hoping to get up by now anyway." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to stand up.  
  
"Morning, Luke."  
  
Upon hearing Liberty's voice he grabbed a blanket and flung it over his lower body to cover himself. She was sitting on the coffee table, decked out in her Lady Vader armor with her helmet in her lap. Around her neck was what appeared to be a religious pendant on a silver chain. Coppery-red hair with blond streaks flowed over her  
  
shoulders, and her silver-blue eyes sparkled in amusement.  
  
"Nice underoos," she commented.  
  
"Sorry for the show," Luke apologized, wrapping the blanket around his waist to form a skirt of sorts.  
  
She shrugged, clasping her hands atop the helmet. "My parents were hippies. I've seen people a lot more naked than that."  
  
He blushed furiously. "Uh... nice necklace."  
  
"Thank you!" She touched the medallion. "This is the Zodiac star sign I was born under, Ares the Ram."  
  
"Is Zodiac part of your religion?"  
  
"Nah, it's some New Age fluff," Austin replied.  
  
"Don't dismiss the star signs as hogwash, Austin," Liberty replied. "As a Scorpio, you'd do well to keep an open mind."  
  
"What's my sign?" Luke asked, curious.  
  
"I don't know," Liberty replied. "Unless you could point your birth date out on one of our calendars, I can't figure it out."  
  
Luke peeked at Austin's computer screen, where he was typing something on a text processing program. "Work?"  
  
"Uh-huh," Austin mumbled. "I write a weekly syndicated column that goes in our local newspaper, 'The Star City Herald,' and a few dozen other papers in the American West. It's a feature specially for geeks like us. It's called 'Life As a Geek.'"  
  
"Oxymoron," Liberty said with a smile. "And is it any wonder that they put it right next to the New Age fluff column, the horoscope?"  
  
Luke laughed as Austin glared at her.  
  
"Can we go now?" insisted Trapper.  
  
"Can I get dressed first?" asked Luke.  
  
Trapper huffed loudly before turning on the television set to kill a little time -- among other things -- playing "Bounty Hunter."  
  
"So are you two brother and sister?" inquired Luke.  
  
"Uh-uh," Austin replied. "I only have brothers, and Liberty's an only child."  
  
"Are you married?"  
  
Liberty laughed. "Austin still hasn't recovered from his first marriage. Though after Melissa, I can see why he's leery of getting hitched again." She gave a mock pout. "But he just doesn't love me enough to propose to me."  
  
"C'mon, Lib, I love you!" Austin protested, whirling around in his swivel chair to face her. "Just give me a little time."  
  
"Where have I heard that before?" Liberty wondered aloud.  
  
Memories of Han and Leia flashed through Luke's mind while he collected his snowtrooper outfit and retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. Despite the obvious cultural differences, Earth humans weren't so different from the rest of the galaxy after all.  
  
***  
  
If Conrad's quick explanation during the car ride was correct, the Star City Convention Center was theoretically the venue for any large gathering -- concerts, college fairs, business expos, auctions, and other activities. And on occasion it did host one of the above. But any native could tell you that the gleaming building wouldn't exist if there wasn't such a pressing need to house Star City's massive conventions. Its chrome-like finish and futuristic dome-and-spire design made it look as if some mischievous deity had picked it up from Corusant's metropolitan districts and grafted it here as a joke. In the center of the paved courtyard was a large fountain with a bronze statue of Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader dueling savagely amidst the columns and sprays of water. Other than the five bare flagpoles out front, the convention center looked entirely too alien in this Earth city.  
  
"What are the flagpoles for?" asked Vader.  
  
"One for each movie," Conrad quipped. "Just kidding. They'll put flags up during the opening ceremony. Two poles will have Star Wars flags on them -- a gray one with a red Alliance crest and a black one with a white Imperial insignia. The other three will have Earth flags -- Star City flag, Colorado state flag, and American flag."  
  
It was still half an hour until the opening ceremonies, yet the courtyard was packed. Hundreds of costumed revelers waited for Stellar-Con to begin. One fan in Imperial Royal Guard robes had come prepared for the wait with a six-pack of an alcoholic beverage, a lawn chair, and a portable computer. A Padme lookalike in white  
  
battle attire and a Han Solo of a skin color Diana described as "Latino" broke out decks of Star Wars cards and sat on the ground for an impromptu game. Other fans just gossiped, compared costumes, traded Episode III rumors, or complained about the wait.  
  
Someone elbowed him.  
  
"Yo Dave!" Steve greeted, utilizing Vader's alias. "You dropped this." He slipped a black leather wallet into his hand. Inside were several bills of Earth currency, a handful of coins, an ID card with his pseudonym and basic information on it, and a second card he didn't recognize.  
  
"That's a Star Wars fan club card," Steve explained. "You are fan, aren't you?"  
  
"Whose picture is this?" Vader asked, referring to the face on the ID card.  
  
"Oh, I just downloaded Hayden Christiansen's face onto my computer and aged it twenty years," he replied. He put his hands on his hips and scanned the crowd. "Well, this year's pretty tame compared to last year. Waiting was a horror then." He shuddered. "Idiot newscasters tried to get right in the thick of things to film us and got trampled when the doors opened. Someone's kid puked on the leader of the local 501st garrison. A Darth Vader wannabe and a stormtrooper got blasted and busted the windows out of the coffee shop next door. A bunch of Trekkies decided to stir up trouble by streaking..."  
  
"What's streaking?" asked Vader, not sure he wanted an answer.  
  
"Running through a public area without clothes on."  
  
"I... see," Vader noted. He decided Earth people were just plain bizarre.  
  
"Maybe our trusty MC will actually start the gig on time and we won't have problems this year," Diana suggested hopefully.  
  
"Probably not," Conrad countered.  
  
Ominous murmuring ensued as seven people hopped onto the edge of the fountain and smirked maliciously at the crowd. Their garb didn't appear to be of Earth, yet it wasn't Star Wars-ish either. He kept a cautious eye on them, sensing that they were going to be causing trouble shortly.  
  
"Uh-oh, rivals," Conrad remarked. "Attack of the Fandoms."  
  
"Back to repeat last year's stunt, are they?" Vader observed.  
  
"Who knows?" Diana replied warily. "The three on the left are Trekkies, fans of a TV show and movie series called 'Star Trek.' They're our biggest rivals. The two in robes look like Ringers, or 'Lord of the Rings' fans -- though I don't know why they're here. They've never harassed us before. The one on the far right in the red bodysuit is Spiderman, and the one in the leather and goggles..." She hesitated. "I don't recognize him."  
  
"'Dragonriders of Pern' fan," Steve informed her. "I know because that's the F'lar lookalike who tried to run me over with his car last year at Nova-Con."  
  
"Take this, you stupid Stargeeks!" one of the Ringers shouted. "You and your stinking self-important Smellar-Con can pucker up and kiss us right here!"  
  
With that, all seven hecklers turned their backs to the throng and...  
  
Vader averted his gaze. He really didn't need to see that.  
  
"Oh look, it's the moons of Yavin," Conrad said blandly.  
  
Boos rang from the crowd as people yelled for the party crashers to vacate the area. The Royal Guard hollered congratulations to them for putting their best faces forward, while a Jedi Padawan began throwing things and scored a direct hit on Spiderman's derriere with an empty soda can. Other spectators loudly suggested such  
  
punishments as pinning the seven down and giving them Queen Amidala makeovers, forcing them to watch the "Holiday Special" until they went insane, or dressing them up as Jedi and turning them loose at the Sons of the Sith headquarters. Through it all the pranksters continued to laugh derisively and shout retaliating insults.  
  
Vader decided a truly Star-Wars-ish punishment was in order. He focused, thrust with the Force... and like professional water dancers the seven tumbled headfirst into the fountain. The jeers from the fans became applause.  
  
"Dave!" Conrad cried, both shocked and amused.  
  
Vader only smiled. The vulgar gatecrashers had gotten what they deserved.  
  
The bewildered rivals scrambled out of the fountain and made a hasty exit, sputtering and coughing all the way. One of the Trekkies still had his pants around his ankles and was trying to hop away and pull them up at the same time.  
  
After the cheering died down, the wait resumed. Other members of the Elite began showing up, among them Luke with the Powers and Fett with the Osmonds. He exchanged polite nods with the others as they arrived, answering to his false name as naturally as he was able.  
  
"You look weird without your helmet on," Luke said in greeting.  
  
"And a good morning to you too, Nick," Vader replied. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Watched the last movie at Austin's last night," he explained with a mischievous grin. "You should, too. It'll do you good."  
  
"No thanks," Vader replied. "Perhaps we should speak more of this in private, Nick Sorenson. We don't want to attract undue attention."  
  
Luke nodded in understanding. "Right, David."  
  
"Excuse me?" another Vader impostor interrupted, walking up at that moment. Vader wannabes were fairly common here, but this one was defined by a golden bandolier crossing his torso from right shoulder to left hip. To further separate him from the others, after his initial remark he began speaking in another language entirely.  
  
"I'm sorry, we don't understand you," Brigham told him.  
  
"So sorry," the man apologized in thickly accented Basic. "I'm with the Paris France Outpost of the 501st, and I seem to have lost my comrades. All the stormtroopers look alike."  
  
Luke and the impostor shared a laugh. Vader didn't find the comment particularly amusing but forced a laugh anyway.  
  
"My name is Gabriel," the false Vader introduced, touching his chest. "Gabriel DeBour."  
  
"Nick Sorenson," Luke replied.  
  
"David McKnight," Vader added.  
  
"Brigham Pratt," Brigham put in.  
  
"Bonjour Nick, David, Brigham," Gabriel said. "Forgive me if I make a mistake, for this is my first visit to America."  
  
"You speak very good English," Diana complimented.  
  
"Merci, Madame!" Gabriel exclaimed. "Thank you. Our outpost goes to many conventions in Great Britain, so most of us know English."  
  
"Why are you wearing that gold thing?" Rachel piped up.  
  
"It is to define us as members of the Paris France Outpost," Gabriel said proudly. "All members are supposed to wear them so we can find each other in a crowd, but many of them forget to put them on. I haven't seen a stormtrooper in gold all morning," he lamented.  
  
"Sorry, but neither have we," Luke said apologetically.  
  
"We'll let you know if we see a French trooper in a gold sash..." Brigham began. Abruptly he froze, the cup of soda he was carrying halfway to his lips. "Aw, crap!"   
  
"More Trekkies?" Vader inquired, quickly scanning the crowd. If it was more pranksters, it didn't feel like the same ones as the "moons of Yavin."  
  
"Worse," Brigham replied. "It's Ezekial. Coming this way."  
  
Vader spotted a dark-skinned Rebel pilot advancing on them, a Leia in Hoth gear on his left and a Jedi Knight on his right. "A rival fan group?" he inquired.  
  
"No, it's a person, and he's a..."  
  
"Well, if it isn't our little Moe Mormon Brigham!" the pilot sneered, shoving rudely past Gabriel to confront the trooper.  
  
"Yo Zeke," Brigham replied. "Get lost."  
  
"It's a free country, isn't it?" Ezekial shot back. He gave Vader a quick glance. "Haven't seen this one before. Who's he?"  
  
"I am David McKnight," Vader replied.  
  
"Dave, you'd do good to find a different friend to hang with," Ezekial advised him. "Mormons like Brig will try to convert you at every opportunity. They consider those not of their faith to be inferior."  
  
/I already have someone trying to convert me at every opportunity/ Vader thought, glancing at Luke. Aloud he said, "And I suppose you think your religion is superior to Brigham's?"  
  
"I'm a proud member of the Baptist Church," Ezekial bragged. "And trying to change other's lifestyles to boost our own egos is beneath us."  
  
"I notice criticizing other's lifestyles to boost your ego is not beneath you, however," Vader retorted.  
  
Ezekial's dark skin took on a pink undertone. "I ain't talkin' to you anymore, Peewee."  
  
"Don't you have someone else to torture?" Steve asked crisply.  
  
"Don't you have some Rainbow Rally to attend?" Ezekial demanded.  
  
"Leave Steve alone," snapped Brigham.  
  
"You're condoning his behavior?" Ezekial gasped, feigning shock. "I thought Mormons were against such lifestyles."  
  
"Bug off or I'll..." Brigham snarled.  
  
"You'll what?" Ezekial taunted. "Quote scripture? You Mormons are soooooo wimpy. I've never seen one of you pick a fight or even throw a punch..."  
  
The crowd gasped in alarm as Brigham tossed the contents of his cup into Ezekial's face. The Rebel stood there a moment, slowly wiping his face, before smiling smugly.  
  
"That the best you can do, Mormon boy?" he jeered.  
  
"Don't do it, Brig," Conrad warned. "We won't think any less of you."  
  
"I've turned the other cheek one too many times," Brigham growled. "Now he's gone too far!" And he charged his foe with an infuriated roar.  
  
Fans leaped out of the way as the two laid into each other, screaming insults and letting fists fly, along with parts of Brigham's armor and shreds of orange cloth from Ezekial's flightsuit.  
  
"Love thy neighbor as thyself!" Ezekial snapped.  
  
"Love thine enemy!" Brigham retorted.  
  
"Love one another!"  
  
"Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth!"  
  
"Go to hell!"  
  
"Bigoted jerk!"  
  
"Mormon pansy!"  
  
"Xenophobic moron!"  
  
"Generation of vipers!"  
  
"Cast the beam from thine eye, hypocrite!"  
  
"You and the peacenik French can all suck eggs!"  
  
At the insult to his heritage Gabriel took notice. Had he been a massif, his hackles would be raised. He grabbed a nearby Aurra Sing's fake blaster rifle and leaped into the fray, clubbing Ezekial savagely. At first Aurra protested, then began cheering the Frenchman on. Meanwhile, Ezekial's tagalongs waded into the melee to help him out.  
  
Mike, who had just shown up and was running to meet up with the rest of the Elite, ran unknowingly into the heart of the brawl. Patrick dove in to rescue him and Jason, probably feeling obligated by blood ties, followed. The Royal Guard, seeing some excitement at last, plunged into the mass of bodies and lashed out indiscriminately at both sides. What had begun as a patient vigil had become a free-for-all.  
  
Luke started to charge into the mess to break it up, but Vader clamped a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Don't injure yourself needlessly," he ordered.  
  
"We have to stop it!" Luke protested.  
  
"These scuffles happen every year," Austin told him. "Different people have different tiffs, but they end the same way. They ride themselves out; don't worry."  
  
Sure enough, the fight dissolved as people began disentangling themselves and limping away. First Jason and Mike staggered out of the mess, the latter nursing what would surely become a black eye, then Patrick, his breastplate spattered with blood from his injured nose. The Jedi staggered free and let his Aayla Secura girlfriend fuss over him while the Leia lookalike dragged the frothing, snarling Royal Guard away by his arm and  
  
dumped a bottle of water over him to cool him off.  
  
Gabriel's shoulders and chest heaved as he stalked toward a group of gold-sashed stormtroopers who had gathered to watch the tussle. His helmet was chipped in places, his bodysuit ripped over the ribs from armpit to waist, and his bandolier had been torn and now dangled limply from one shoulder. But he seemed immensely pleased with himself, and he held up a battered lightsaber, a trophy gained from the fight.  
  
"Vive la France!" he bellowed.  
  
His comrades roared assent, pumping their fists in the air.  
  
"Hey, that's mine!" the Jedi protested.  
  
Brigham and Ezekial, meanwhile, continued their bout of "aggressive negotiations." Pieces of stormtrooper armor and flightsuit material lay scattered about, and Ezekial's helmet went skittering across the courtyard to land at Vader's feet. By now a law enforcement officer had arrived on the scene and tried to break up the fight, but when Brigham's elbow caught him in the cheekbone he backed away and waited for the brawl to peter out.  
  
"Those two have born grudges for years," Austin informed them. "Brig's put up with a lot of abuse from Zeke, and it had to explode sometime."  
  
"At least they're communicating," Darcy pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, with their fists," Fett and Liz said at the same time. They stared at each other a moment, startled, then resumed their aloof stances.  
  
"What was all that discussion about?" Vader demanded. "About Steve's lifestyle and Mormons being intolerant of other faiths?"  
  
"It's not important," Emily replied. "People fight over the stupidest little things. But does Brig's religion or Zeke's prejudices or Steve's sexual preference really warrant a fistfight? I really don't think so, but they do, and its that attitude that causes so many wars and so much hatred on our planet." She gazed meaningfully at him. "Maybe that's the same attitude that has the rest of the galaxy in such upheaval too."  
  
She did have a point, but hers was the observation of an idealistic. He had little use for those. He'd had ideals once, and they had been for naught. Besides, the Galactic Civil War wasn't about trivial hatreds but about keeping the galaxy in one piece. But then again, it was the trivial hatreds that had ripped it apart in the first place. Stang, he hated it when these Earth people were right!  
  
By now Brigham and Ezekial were lying on the ground, panting and moaning in pain, unable to raise a finger, much less a fist. The officer informed them that he should take both of them down to the station for assault, but since they were first-time offenders they'd get off with tickets this time for disturbing the peace. These the officer wrote out and stuck to their chests before walking off and leaving them to recuperate.  
  
"You pack a mean right hook," Ezekial mumbled.  
  
"Thanks," Brigham groaned. "Your uppercut ain't so bad either."  
  
"C'mon, start the gig already!" grumbled Liz.  
  
"It's only ten minutes after starting time," Sparky pointed out. "Keep your shorts on." 


	11. StellarCon

Part XI -- Stellar-Con  
  
It was actually half an hour after starting time that Adam Cage, the Master of Ceremonies, deigned to show up. Dressed in a dashing Lando Calrissian outfit despite the fact that he was white, he was all smile and no real personality. Almost the moment he stepped up to the convention center doors the crowd began hissing at him for being tardy. Austin just rolled his eyes. Mr. Cage was fifteen minutes earlier than he had been last year -- whatever happened to applauding improvement?  
  
"Welcome to Stellar-Con, ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted.  
  
"Get on with it!" shouted an impatient Bib Fortuna.  
  
"We're so glad to see that the international fervor toward the greatest movies of all time hasn't diminished," Mr. Cage went on, ignoring the heckler. "Star Wars is clearly no fad that is forgotten the moment it leaves the 'New Release' shelf of the video rental store, but a tradition that grows richer and more popular with each passing year..."  
  
He droned on and on until the masses were nearly mad with impatience. Even Vader and Fett began shifting on their feet and muttering death threats. Austin sighed wearily as Sparky fell asleep in his wheelchair and Zack began another round of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Was it the MC's theory that Stellar-Con couldn't begin until the participants were properly sedated?  
  
At last Mr. Cage finished his speech and said, "Without further ado, the Denver Colorado Chapter of the Rebel Alliance with our flags and the Jedi Academy Dropouts to sing our national anthem!"  
  
The audience cheered, more out of relief that the windbag had finally deflated than out of excitement that a Star Wars music group was performing.  
  
"About time," Fett huffed. "That speech was even more pointless than that brain-numbing Monty Python film."  
  
"Hey, Monty Python's the coolest!" Mike protested.  
  
"You made him watch 'Monty Python?'" gaped Amethyst.  
  
"Hey, he chose to watch it," Patrick defended.  
  
"Monty Python's just plain weird," Conrad said. "Next time show him James Bond. That might suit his tastes more."  
  
"James Bond is even more pointless than Monty Python," Brigham countered, nursing a crack in his shoulder plate from the brawl earlier.  
  
"Don't diss James Bond!" Liz snapped. "That series is second only to Star Wars!"  
  
"Who's James Bond?" growled Fett.  
  
"Spy, secret agent, gadget guy... you know, your type," Jason replied. "His movies have plenty of action and more cool technology than you can shake a death stick at. Care to watch one with us after the con tonight?"  
  
Fett nodded somewhat reluctantly.  
  
"Liz, wanna join us?" Patrick invited.  
  
"And be in the same room as the guy who nearly killed me? I don't think so!"  
  
"I've got the entire series on DVD, including 'The Man With the Golden Gun' starring the one and only Christopher Lee," Jason said enticingly.  
  
She grimaced. "I'll think about it," she mumbled before turning up her Queen CD.  
  
"That means yes!" Jason hooted. "Better order another pizza tonight, Pat!"  
  
"Shut up!" hissed Emily. "They're bringing out the flags. Nick, Rob, Dave, put your hands over your hearts." Luke, Fett, and Vader complied, but she shook her head. "Your right hands." When Fett didn't trade hands, she pulled his hand off his chest and slapped the other to his heart. "THAT hand's your right, Rob!"  
  
Participants dressed as Rebels marched out in formation, escorting five Royal Handmaidens who carried folded flags. They presented these to five Luke Skywalkers, who in turn unfolded them with help from some Rebel troopers. The flags were slowly hoisted skyward on the poles, hanging limply in the still summer air.  
  
"They look pathetic," Cody murmured before Amethyst hissed at him to be quiet.  
  
/Cody has a point/ Austin thought. Even a small breeze would make the banners more impressive.  
  
As if reading his mind, Luke made a small motion with his left hand, and the five flags rose in response to the sudden wind. They unfurled regally, displaying proud colors to the crowd. Everyone gasped at the sight.  
  
"Why is Sparky saluting?" Luke whispered.  
  
"He's a Gulf War veteran," Austin replied. "Anyone who's served in the American military salutes the American flag." He didn't bother to mention that Sparky had actually seen front-line action in the war and narrowly survived the battle... and on his way home from the airport after coming back to the States, had gotten in the car wreck that had cost him his ability to walk. The irony would have been funny had it not also been so tragic.  
  
A quartet of men in Jedi robes, their hair spiked and dyed in unnatural colors, gathered at the base of the flags and sang a beautiful acapella version of "The Star-Spangled Banner." They sounded positively angelic, but Austin was relieved when they ended their song after the first verse. Two years ago another band, Chocolate Chip Wookie, had insisted on singing all four verses and had to run for their lives when an irate crowd threatened to tar and feather them for taking so danged long to finish. Austin sighed again. Why couldn't people show a little more respect toward the anthem?  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed Mr. Cage, "Stellar-Con has begun!"  
  
***  
  
The three-day Stellar-Con didn't go very well.  
  
Mike, ever the klutz, stumbled and fell into the booth of the Droid Builder's Club mere minutes into the first day, damaging two fake R2 units and smashing a mouse droid replica. When he offered to pay for the damage, he was quoted such a ridiculous price that Brigham had to intercede to prevent a fistfight.  
  
Boba Fett overheard a Mara Jade lookalike bad-mouthing his father, complaining that his role in Episode II was trivial to the point of being almost unnecessary. Fett hadn't taken kindly to the remark and had slapped her. Security personnel had to bodily separate him from her much larger boyfriend.  
  
Cody smuggled in a bottle of Pepsi Blue, disregarding the "No Outside Food or Beverages Allowed" signs, and managed to spill the entire bottle all over a table where several people were playing the Star Wars Trading Card Game. Even Austin was forced to admit that Cody probably deserved the black eye one of the players gave him for that.  
  
Vader discovered the arcade, and so many people lost playing "Star Wars Racer" against him that he quickly earned the title of Least Popular Attendee.  
  
Rachel and Trapper, armed with a kazoo and an airhorn, crashed the Star City Philharmonic Orchestra's "Music of John Williams" concert and had to be escorted out by security.  
  
Steve came home from the convention one night to discover that Artoo had been "experimenting" with all the household appliances. Needless to say, Steve was not amused to find that turning on the DVD player also started the microwave, changed the station on the radio, rebooted the computer, and cut power to the fridge.  
  
Add that to the numerous times their visitors' cover was nearly blown, the uncountable pranks played by Trekkies and Ringers, the unwanted surprise appearance of the Sons of the Sith, and a car accident that knocked out power to the convention center for over four hours, and it was no wonder that the entire Elite was referring to the event as Smellar-Con as they staggered wearily back to the parking lot on the last evening of the con.  
  
"This doesn't bode well for Nova-Con," Emily remarked as she rubbed at a stain on her glove where someone's tantrum-throwing kid had thrown a can of soda at her.  
  
"I don't care," Trapper said bitterly. "I can't go anyway."  
  
"Chin up, Mini-V," Sparky told him. "There's always next year."  
  
"You know, Nova-Con begins the day after a lunar eclipse," Liberty pointed out. "Fascinating, really."  
  
"I don't think we needed to know that!" Liz griped.  
  
"No, it's a good omen!" Liberty protested. "Good luck to the event."  
  
"So what are we supposed to do during the month-and-a-half 'til Nova-Con?" Luke wanted to know.  
  
"Just lie low and wait," Amethyst replied. "There's plenty here in town to keep you occupied until the con."  
  
"And we plan activities to fill in the gap," Jason added. "Like tomorrow. We're planning a barbecue at our place."  
  
"See you all then," Steve said in farewell as he hopped into his vehicle. "Gotta run. Hope Artoo hasn't broken anything beyond repair."  
  
***  
  
"No fair!" cried Trapper as Luke defeated him yet again in a "Jedi Starfighter" match. "You're using the Force!"  
  
"Am not!" Luke laughed. "It's just a matter of what tactics you use. Here, I'll show you how I do that spin-fire-retreat maneuver."  
  
"Nah, let's play Stratego," Trapper replied. "I've got the Star Wars version, and I kick Dad's butt every time we play."  
  
Luke smiled. Just like a father to let his son win a game. He wondered, as he often did, how things might have turned out had he been raised by a father and mother. His aunt and uncle had done an admirable job, and he loved and missed them dearly, but it wasn't exactly the same. Had his own father not turned to the dark side...  
  
"Luke, you wanna play Stratego or not?" demanded Trapper.  
  
"Huh? Sorry, just in deep thought."  
  
"You do that an awful lot," Trapper noted.  
  
"I have an awful lot to think about," Luke replied.  
  
"Must be a Jedi thing," Trapper said. "All my friends talk about how fun it would be to be a Jedi, but I'm sure glad I'm not one. It'd be really hard."  
  
/How right you are, little one/ Luke thought. When he'd told Ben that he wanted to be a Jedi like his father, he'd had no idea what trials he'd face, what torment he'd suffer. But looking back, he realized that such hardship had been inevitable. It had been his destiny, as inseparable from him as his own skin.  
  
"Yo Luke! Planet Earth to Commander Skywalker! Come in, Skywalker!"  
  
"Give me a break," Luke replied. "I was in deep thought again."  
  
"What if the roof caved in while you were in deep thought?" asked Trapper.  
  
"Trapper!" called Austin, smothering Luke's retort. "Time for bed!"  
  
"Aw, Dad!" whined Trapper.  
  
"Don't 'aw Dad' me, Mini-V," Austin ordered, marching into the living room. "It's very late. But before you hit the sack..." He handed a package to Trapper. "I meant to give this to you in the car, but it slipped my mind."  
  
"Wow, cool!" Trapper squealed, ripping open the package to reveal a false Imperial blaster. "Just like my old one!"  
  
"Like I promised," Austin said quietly.  
  
"May I see it?" asked Luke. He examined the toy carefully. It was indeed an uncanny replica of the actual weapon. Then a knob on the stock caught his attention.  
  
"Looks like you won't be fighting any Rebels with this anytime soon," Luke noted.  
  
"Of course not!" Trapper shot back. "It's fake!"  
  
"I know, but look. This knob here controls the safety mechanism. In the position its in now, the safety's on. If it were real, you couldn't shoot it until the safety was switched off."  
  
Trapper fell to the ground laughing.  
  
"Industrial Light and Magic, you've just been busted," Austin observed. "Now to bed with both of you monkeys. You can discuss blasters and such in the morning."  
  
"You're sounding more like my father than my own father," Luke noted without rancor.  
  
Austin sighed and clapped Luke's shoulder. "Kid, give it time. You can't expect everything to be hearts and roses right off the bat. Your dad's a very sick, very confused man right now. He's going to need time and space to heal and come to terms with himself."  
  
Time to heal. Time Luke wasn't sure they had. Imperial "rescuers" could arrive any day, and that would spell the doom of his personal mission and the possibility of reinstating the Jedi Order. A Jedi's greatest asset was patience, yes, but how could he be patient when he felt as if he had a ticking time bomb in his pocket?  
  
***  
  
It was the third night of James Bond, and Fett had yet to lose interest in the movies. True, the plots were fairly outlandish, but there was plenty of the action and gadgetry Jason and Patrick had promised.  
  
Liz sat in an overstuffed chair on the other side of the living room, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes occasionally leaving the screen to glare at him briefly. He glowered back from the other chair, wondering why she didn't just drop the matter and move on. The blaster incident happened four days ago. Why was she still letting that sore fester?  
  
Patrick and Jason were sprawled on the couch in comfortable if obscene poses, fast-forwarding through a romance scene. He silently thanked them for their thoughtfulness. One point on which Bond and Fett differed was their attitude toward women. Whereas Mr. 007 seemed to have a new consort every movie, Fett kept his  
  
distance from the opposite gender as often as possible.  
  
"Beware of women, son," his father had once told him. "They're cunning to an extreme. When crossed, they're ruthless. If you offend a man, you'll find yourself on the wrong end of a blaster, but offend a woman, and you'll find yourself on the threshold of Hell."  
  
He wasn't as extreme as his father regarding women, but he could see Jango's point. Females of any species were difficult to work with as business partners. Hunts were challenging enough; he didn't need to attempt to understand a woman's thought processes at the same time.  
  
Of the infrequent times when Fett had teamed up with a second hunter on a particularly difficult hunt, only three of his temporary partners had been female. The first, an up-and-coming Gand findswoman, had abruptly accused him of double-crossing her and abandoned the hunt partway through, forcing him to complete the mission alone. Never mind that there was no proof of betrayal, and she'd had the nerve to demand half the bounty once he'd finished the assignment! He didn't regret shooting her in the least. The second, a Corellian human, had been so cranky during their brief partnership that he'd absolutely refused her offer to work with her a second time. She begged him to reconsider, blaming PMS for her sour disposition, but he never bought that excuse. The last, a Zabrak assassin, had been an excellent co-worker... until she abruptly asked him to marry her. That was the first and last time Fett had voluntarily quit a hunt before completing it.  
  
Oh well. To each his own. Bond could charm all the ladies he wanted. Less for him to have to avoid.  
  
He looked up to see Liz glaring at him again. He groaned. Another woman problem, and this one he couldn't just blast and hide the body.  
  
Fett stood and moved to stand beside her chair. "Liz, this has to end."  
  
She glared. "'Diamonds Are Forever' is one of my favorites. If you think it's too long, leave."  
  
"Not the movie. The conflict."  
  
Her glare didn't abate.  
  
"I've apologized twice for shooting at you," he pointed out. "Now get over it and stop with the evil eye."  
  
"I could've been killed!"  
  
"You weren't. Be thankful for that."  
  
"Just shut up, Fett! You were quiet in the films -- continue that streak!"  
  
Well, he couldn't say he didn't try. He returned to his chair.  
  
***  
  
Diana was doing the supper dishes when Conrad stumbled in, looking like he'd gone a couple rounds with a Wookie. Green smudges streaked his hands and arms, and perspiration glazed his skin. She turned and regarded him sweetly.  
  
"Done mowing the lawn?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, panting and wiping sweat from his brow. She turned back to the sink as he collapsed into a chair.  
  
"I could use a hot bath right now," he sighed.  
  
"Sorry, Rachel beat you to it," Diana replied.  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "She's bathing herself now?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"Oh, Darcy's over for a visit, isn't she? Nice of her to help give Rachel a bath."  
  
"Darcy's not here."  
  
Conrad gaped. "You don't mean... you're letting HIM..."  
  
"Honey, calm down," she told him, rinsing a salad bowl. "If it means she willingly takes a bath, what's the harm? And it's not like he's a pedophile."  
  
He laughed as he stretched and popped his knuckles. "My mother would have a heart attack if she found I was letting a Dark Lord of the Sith give my daughter a bath. I don't suppose he was too happy about it."  
  
"Not exactly, but he did say it was the least he could do for us. After all, we are putting him up for free." She finished scouring a frying pan and pulled the sink plug. "Dark Lord or not, Rachel's enamored with him, though why is beyond me. I thought she was still obsessed with Chewbacca."  
  
Conrad laughed again. "How many times have we washed that Wookie doll of hers? Once, twice in five years?"  
  
"Maybe Vader can get it away from her long enough to throw it through the wash," Diana mused as she dried her hands. "Personally, I think this is good for her. She needs some kind of companion, especially since Trapper's almost never in town and she has no brothers or sisters." And a shadow crossed her face.  
  
"Diana," Conrad chided mildly, standing and moving to embrace her. "Don't be like this, love. We can't give up hope. Rachel deserves a sibling. How can we deny her one?" He gently kissed her forehead and held her against him.  
  
Her voice was a strangled whisper. "What if we lose another one? Losing Noah was heartbreaking, losing Eli devastating. If it happens again..." She couldn't finish.  
  
He simply held her, knowing words were insufficient in this situation. How painful it had been to lose their two boys, dead before they had truly begun to live. It had broken both their hearts, especially being so young themselves. Rachel was their little miracle, but Conrad felt that raising her as an only child was denying her the pleasure of a playmate. Diana was understandably nervous about getting pregnant again, but he hoped beyond hope that, someday, she would change her mind and dare to try again.  
  
A shriek of gleeful terror mercifully cut their grieving short. The object of their thoughts bolted through the kitchen, dripping wet and stark naked, then dove behind the living room bookcase. Tracing her damp trail was Vader, soaked from head to toe and decorated with fluffs of bath bubbles. Conrad tried mightily, but he couldn't stifle his laughter.  
  
"Having fun in there?" asked Diana, somehow managing to keep a straight face.  
  
"She -- bit -- me," Vader boomed menacingly, spacing the words.  
  
"Rachel, come out of there!" Conrad ordered, still chuckling.  
  
"I don't wanna!" she cried. "Don't wanna take a bath!"  
  
"C'mon, you little munchkin," Diana said sternly, pulling her out of her hiding place and carrying her toward the bathroom. "It's bath day, and you're dirty."  
  
"No! No! Nononononononononononononono!"  
  
"I'll read another book to you if you finish your bath without getting your mother wet," Vader said.  
  
She immediately shut up.  
  
Conrad began laughing again. "She's softening you, Lord Vader. You're actually volunteering to read her stories."  
  
He picked up the dish-drying cloth and wiped his helmet and mask down. "Last night she insisted on this imbecilic tale about elves and a shoemaker. Who writes this children's drivel?"  
  
"Hey, there's a lot of charm in those stories. Don't diss them. They teach our kids morals and values that nowadays are going down the toilet."  
  
Vader grunted. "From what I've seen, those lessons don't carry far."  
  
"Don't be such a cynic." He helped the Dark Lord remove his cloak and wring it out in the sink. "Did she really bite you?"  
  
He extended his left hand toward Conrad. Imprinted in the leather of his glove was a semicircle of teeth marks.  
  
Conrad chuckled. "For all your power, there are still things you can't do."  
  
"True," Vader acknowledged. 


	12. Deadly Intentions

Part XII -- Deadly Intentions  
  
Liberty sighed wistfully as she stared out the window, watching the raindrops spatter and flow across the glass. Why was it that the day you planned an outdoor activity, the weather refused to cooperate?  
  
"So much for the barbecue," grumped Liz.  
  
"Hey, we can play mud volleyball!" suggested Amethyst.  
  
The foul weather had definitely canceled the barbecue plans, but that didn't prevent the gang from getting together anyway. Austin had brought his Playstation, and everyone took turns playing "Jedi Starfighter," "Super Bombad Racing," and "Podracer" on the Osmond's big-screen TV. Others brought Star Wars oriented board games -- Life, Monopoly, Stratego, Battleship, Trivial Pursuit, even a chess set Liberty had made years ago during her brief sculptor's phase. Patrick and Jason fried hamburgers on the stove and kept the mob appeased with plenty of chips, potato salad, and soda.  
  
"Not a bad alternative gig," Sparky mused as he sat down to a game of chess with Liberty. "Everyone's happy."  
  
"For a change," Liberty replied. "Except whoever's losing 'Racer Revenge' against Vader."  
  
Sparky laughed. "Rebel or Imperial?"  
  
"Imperial," she answered, spinning the board accordingly. With this chess set, white pieces were Rebel and black were Imperial, and different characters from the movies represented different ranks (Pawns -- stormtroopers/Rogue pilots, Rooks -- Stardestroyers/X-wings, Knights -- dewback-mounted sandtroopers/tauntaun-mounted Echo scouts, Bishops -- royal guards/protocol droids, Queens -- Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker, and Kings -- Emperor Palpatine/Princess Leia). Liberty had sculpted the set in her art class her junior year of high school, and she brought it to every convention to engage in a game with the more artsy among the Stargeeks.  
  
"Haven't talked to you in awhile, Liberty," Sparky said, nudging a pawn forward. "What have you been up to? Store going well?" Liberty owned a science-fiction-fantasy bookstore named The Dragon Stone, an inheritance from a late aunt.  
  
"The store's been a bit slow, but things may speed up for Eye of the Storm," she replied. "I'm not holding my breath, though. Ever since the new Barnes and Noble opened all us small-time book peddlers have been struggling financially. The Deerstalker Cap had to close last week."  
  
"The mystery bookstore?" Sparky's eyebrows arched high in surprise. "I loved that shop! They had that big mannequin in Sherlock Holmes getup in the window..."  
  
"Sherlock's gone now," Liberty said sadly, moving a bishop out to capture a wayward pawn. "Along with the romance novel store, Heat of the Night, and the second-hand bookshop, Junkyard Dog. The guy who runs Just Classics has vowed to stay open come hell or high water, but it won't be too long now before B and N moves in for the kill, I'm afraid."  
  
"The curse of corporations," Sparky mused as he pounced on the bishop with a knight. "Chain stores are crowding out the little guys."  
  
"Hey, we're out of Cheetohs!" bellowed Zack.  
  
"Luke, wanna run an errand for us?" asked Jason.  
  
Luke glanced up from pondering a selection of cheeseburger patties. "Oh, sure. What?"  
  
Jason pointed to the ceiling. "On the second floor is our pantry. Run up there and snag a bag of these." He gave Luke the empty chip bag for reference. "If you can't find any, get the next best thing."  
  
"All right." He gave a mock salute, smiling broadly, before disappearing upstairs.  
  
Liberty turned her attention back to their game. "Maybe I should diversify The Dragon Stone -- add some other genres. Keep up with the big guys. A little historical fiction, maybe some legal fiction..."  
  
"Now you listen here, Liberty," Sparky admonished, waggling his queen at her like a teacher's yardstick. "Don't think that if you can't beat 'em, you have to join 'em. Part of what makes your store so endearing is the fact that it has a theme, that people can go in knowing what to expect. You don't go to a store named The Dragon Stone to buy encyclopedias or cookbooks."  
  
"Actually, I do carry cookbooks," she shot back with a grin. "Two Star Wars cookbooks have come out, as well as a number of fantasy-themed..."  
  
"You know what I mean," Sparky retorted with a wink. "Your customers like your specialty shop. Don't follow the crowd."  
  
"I'm normally not one to follow the crowd. Check."  
  
His smile faded. "That's not check."  
  
"Yes it is." Something thumped directly over her head, and the two of them stared a moment at the ceiling. "Cody, quit banging around up there!" she shouted.  
  
"Noisy bugger," Sparky snorted. "What does he do up there, jump on a pogo stick?"  
  
"Wouldn't doubt it. Boy's nuttier than a Payday bar. But anyway, I still think I need to diversify a bit. I might condense the horror section and add some children's books."  
  
"Now there's some smart investments," Sparky smiled, advancing a rook.  
  
"Hey, I gotta do something to up sales," she replied. "Business hasn't been this bad since the local churches boycotted The Dragon Stone for carrying Dungeons and Dragons equipment. I had to pull them off the shelves to save my business."  
  
"Eh, you can't please everyone," Sparky said. "That's the problem with chain stores. They try to please everyone and end up getting too big for their own britches." Another loud bang from upstairs, this time over the TV set, caught his attention. "Hope Luke didn't drop something on his foot."  
  
"Cody, quit banging around!" Jason ordered.  
  
"I'm not!" Cody protested, looking up from the table where he, Fett, Steve, Conrad, and Darcy were playing Monopoly. "Why's everyone blaming me?"  
  
"'Cause usually when there's banging around upstairs, you're the culprit," Jason retorted. He glared at the ceiling, then at his comrades. "Hey, where's Vader?"  
  
"Dunno," Conrad replied. "I wasn't assigned to keep track of him."  
  
"I won!" shouted Trapper, thrusting both fists in the air. "I beat Amethyst at 'Racer Revenge!' I beat her!" He stood on the couch and began hooting with pride like a howler monkey.  
  
"Trapper, don't stand on the furniture!" scolded Austin.  
  
Another thud from upstairs, a scuffle, a weird hum... and a crimson shaft of light pierced the ceiling right over Trapper's head.  
  
Everyone froze in place.  
  
Liberty's heart pounded its way up her throat. She knew, now, where Vader had gone and why.  
  
***  
  
One thing that could be said in the Osmonds' defense was that, despite their quirky personalities and abysmal housekeeping skills, they would never go hungry during a crisis. While the lower story of the house was reserved for day-to-day living, the upper level was rarely accessed and so served as a stockpile for non-perishable edibles. "Pile" being the key word there -- the horde had no organization to it whatsoever. Bags, cans, boxes, and containers had simply been stacked, dumped, or scattered wherever.  
  
Luke shook his head in wonder as he attempted to locate the snacks he had been sent to find. He'd just finished pawing through the bathtub, where he'd found Doritos, Slim Jims, peanut butter, Froot Loops, and a half-empty box of Instant Quaker Oatmeal, but no Cheetohs. Now he faced the daunting mountain of packaged food that inhabited a spare bedroom. Most likely whichever brother went grocery shopping simply picked up two of everything that wouldn't spoil and threw the extras upstairs for quick grabs later -- much later, for the expiration dates on some packages dated back to as early as 1995.  
  
He found what he was looking for on top of the spare bed, next to a dust-coated summer sausage and two bags of Oreo cookies. Brushing off the ragged jeans and Scooby-Doo T-shirt Cody had loaned him, he turned back toward the stairs.  
  
Vader blocked his path. Luke was wondering what sort of snack item Vader had been sent to fetch when the Dark Lord's hand moved to his lightsaber.  
  
"This ends now, Luke," Vader snarled.  
  
"What ends now?" Luke asked, trying to keep a calm demeanor.  
  
"You cannot avoid it any longer, Luke. You must face your destiny. If you will not turn, you will be destroyed."  
  
Luke glanced at Vader's belt, where his own weapon dangled. He would have time to retrieve it before Vader attacked... but first he had to try to reason with his father.  
  
"Father, you can't do this," he said. "You had the opportunity to kill me before and couldn't. I don't believe you can kill me now."  
  
"I'll be the judge of that," Vader hissed, igniting his lightsaber and swinging it upward in a single graceful motion. "In this, I may be doing you a kindness, Skywalker. If the Emperor cannot turn you, he will kill you. If you will not join him, you may as well die now."  
  
Luke threw out his arm, drawing his lightsaber to him on a current of the Force. The handle smacked against his hand, and he thumbed the blade on and assumed a battle stance.  
  
"I'll never join the dark side!"  
  
"Then," Vader intoned, his voice hard and resonant as if coming from the depths of Hell itself, "you will meet your destiny."  
  
The crimson blade sheared toward him. He parried the blow and tried to duck to the side, but a strike toward his midsection prevented him from making an escape. He barely blocked the slash in time.  
  
Scarlet and emerald light strobed through the second floor of the house as sabers clashed furiously. Vader forced Luke back a step, then another, then lunged. Luke sprang to the side as the Dark Lord's blade ripped through a pile of Ruffles bags. Smoke snaked out of the heap where the plasmatic blade came in contact with plastic and chips. With a snarl Vader turned back toward Luke.  
  
The young Jedi backed slowly toward the stairs, knowing if he could reach the first level Vader probably wouldn't press the fight. Yet he also knew he'd never make it down there before the Sith Lord caught up with him.  
  
/I may be doing you a kindness./ What kind of justification was that for murdering his own son? Then he realized, with a terrible chill, that his father was trying, in some sick way, to show him some mercy. He had openly admitted to Luke that the dark side had made him its slave, and he was ensuring that his son would never know such bondage. By killing Luke, he was sparing him from the horrors of the dark.  
  
"Father!" Luke cried as their sabers collided, grinding against each other. "Don't do this! There's another way!"  
  
His weapon screamed as the energy matrix threatened to overload. Gritting his teeth, Luke pushed against Vader with the Force, thrusting them apart.  
  
"Come with me," Luke offered hopefully, almost pleadingly. "Back to the Fleet. You can secede from the Empire and join the Alliance. The Emperor can't manipulate you there."  
  
Vader sprang, closing the gap between them. Luke barely had time to dodge before the deadly blow could be dealt. The ruby blade punched through the floor, leaving a C-shaped rip when Vader withdrew his weapon.  
  
"How many times must I tell you?" Vader growled. "I'm not worth saving. There's nothing left to save." He slashed again, but Luke shielded himself from the blow. "The Rebellion -- what a joke. They'll never accept me within their ranks. I'll be executed on the spot."  
  
"They may kill Darth Vader," Luke countered, "but not Anakin Skywalker, my father."  
  
Shafts of emerald and ruby crossed before his face. He strained to push Vader's blade away, but the Dark Lord was too strong.  
  
"That name," Vader rumbled savagely, "no longer has any meaning for me."  
  
"It's the name... of your true self," Luke grunted, exerting all his strength to keep the red saber from cutting him apart. "You've... only forgotten."  
  
The saber inched dangerously closer despite Luke's efforts to stay its progress. Vader's mask filled his vision, green and red light eerily highlighting the fearsome visage; the deadly thrum of lightsabers buzzed through his ears; his nostrils burned with the smell of static and ozone, of scorched plastic and potato chips, of burned carpeting, of sweat drenching his shirt... the sweat of exertion and fear.  
  
Muscles in Vader's arms tensed for the final, fatal thrust. Luke shut his eyes and relaxed his grip on the weapon. He would enter into the Force in peace.  
  
/I'm sorry Ben, Yoda. I failed you both. I failed the galaxy. Leia... Leia, my sister, I love you.../  
  
"BREAK IT UP!!!"  
  
The screamed order was punctuated by a single crack of blaster fire, which Vader whirled to deflect. Luke gasped in relief. He'd never been so happy to hear a blaster shot before.  
  
Liz stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips, a glower worthy of Uncle Owen in her eyes. Boba Fett was beside her, keeping his weapon trained on Vader. For that stunt the hunter had probably just lost all future employment offers with Vader, but he didn't look repentant in the least.  
  
"What are you two doing up here?!" Liz shouted, marching toward them. "This isn't Cloud City -- this is Earth! And on our planet we don't appreciate people trying to chop each other to pieces over our heads! Turn those things off before someone loses a hand!"  
  
Too stunned by her boldness to protest, Vader and Luke complied.  
  
"And keep 'em off! No more duels in the house! Sounded like an army of AT-AT walkers up here! And you scared Trapper half to death when that blade almost hit him..."  
  
"Trapper!" Luke cried, running down the stairs.  
  
When he reached the bottom, several people stared at him suspiciously while others just gave questioning glances. Austin sat in a chair with Trapper on his lap, murmuring comfortingly to him. Over the sofa, the lightsaber scar was plainly visible on the ceiling, still glowing at the edges.  
  
"Trapper, are you okay?" Luke asked.  
  
He nodded against his father's chest.  
  
"Startled, not hurt," Steve replied. "Vader's lightsaber came within a foot of his head. I think he's calmed down now."  
  
"Last time he stands on the furniture," Emily quipped, trying to be funny. No one laughed.  
  
"What happened?" asked Patrick, eyes fixed on the gash in the ceiling.  
  
"I found the Cheetohs and was coming back down," Luke explained, glossing over the fact that he'd left the chips upstairs during the melee. "Vader met me at the top of the stairs and told me he was going to... uh... kill me to keep me from joining the dark side."  
  
Conrad burst out laughing. "Now there's a death-defying leap in logic."  
  
Liz stomped down the stairs, pulling Vader after her by the corner of his helmet like a schoolteacher hauling away an errant schoolboy by the ear. Everyone chuckled, even Luke and Trapper.  
  
"First blasters, now lightsabers!" shrieked Liz. "What's next, a proton torpedo in the middle of the Nova-Con crowd?!"  
  
"Kindly let go of me," Vader ordered, still hunched over.  
  
She released him but never let up on her rant. "Why do you three insist on disrupting any event we participate in?! Every time we leave you unsupervised one of you's getting into a fistfight or saber duel! What are you, a bunch of overgrown twelve-year-olds?!"  
  
"Ease up a little, Liz," Austin ordered.  
  
"Ease up?! EASE UP?! Your son could've been killed!"  
  
"He wasn't, and that's the important thing," Austin replied. "But we need to ensure that this doesn't happen again." He glanced meaningfully at Luke and Vader. "Would you two consent to one of us safeguarding your lightsabers?"  
  
Vader glowered at Austin, and Luke saw him raise his right hand slightly. "You do not need to confiscate our weapons."  
  
Austin's eyes glazed over. "We do not need to confiscate..."  
  
"Dad, he's doing a mind trick on you!" shouted Trapper, slapping him on the cheeks. He shook his head to clear his brain.  
  
"Please," Sparky said sternly. "Whether or not you two intend to fight again, accidents happen. I don't think you need to surrender your lightsabers, but at least use some caution. If you have issues to work out, do it in the woods where no one will see you or get hurt."  
  
"Last thing we need is someone showing up at the emergency room with some unexplainable injury," Liberty added, moving a game piece forward on the board where she and Sparky were playing. "Checkmate."  
  
Sparky's forehead bunched in a frown. "How'd you do that so quick?"  
  
Vader stalked outside. Luke just shook his head before taking a plate and grabbing some lunch. Had that incident been a sign of improvement, or just proof that he was fighting a losing battle? 


	13. Missing In Action

Part XIII -- Missing In Action  
  
The Death Star was little more than smoldering space rubble, creating an obstacle course of sorts around the Home One. Outside the viewscreen Endor's verdant globe was a marvelous sight to behold, though chunks of the battle station and the skeletons of blasted fighters occasionally marred the view -- grisly reminders of the horrid battle yesterday. Beyond that, the glimmering eyes of the stars watched over the proceedings, ageless sentinels of the universe, to whom such petty dealings as civil wars were inconsequential matters.  
  
Leia forced herself to look away. Mon Mothma was speaking to them. She couldn't afford to space out now.  
  
"I have called you here to deliver some disturbing news," Mothma was saying. "It is believed that, contrary to our first assumptions, the Emperor did not arrive aboard the Death Star as scheduled. Our informants on Corusant report that he has not left the planet in months, and he does not appear to be preparing for a journey anytime soon."  
  
The audience gathered in the Home One's briefing room -- Leia, Han, Chewie, Threepio, Trigger, Admiral Ackbar, and Ackbar's second-in-command Captain Dzi -- exchanged nervous glances. They had hoped beyond hope that the Emperor had died aboard the Death Star. So much had been risked to see to that -- and so much had been lost. Were the deaths of so many pilots and ground troops, as well as the noble sacrifices made by Endor's indigenous tribes, in vain?  
  
"I thought this whole battle was supposed to be a trap for the Alliance," Han pointed out. "Why would the Emperor miss out on that?"  
  
"Trigger can tell ussss," Captain Dzi hissed. Dzi was a serpentine Ramothian, with an eight-meter long silver-blue body and a bony green crest. His kind had been brutally persecuted by the Empire, with rich governors and bureaucrats wearing their hides and their young being enslaved as pets. The Alliance, however, recognized the Ramothians as an intelligent species and recruited them regularly.  
  
"Meesa, Captain?" the Gungan asked skeptically.  
  
"According to your report, you and Skywalker were ambushed in Area 51 by the Stardestroyer Executor," Ackbar said.  
  
"Yessir. An' meesa hearin' Vader on da comm, too. Wesa told Commander Skywalker wesa send help."  
  
Dzi flicked his jet-black forked tongue, a regretful gesture. "The ssscouts we sssent to Area 51 could find no tracccce of Sssskywalker."  
  
Leia gasped and clutched Han's hand.  
  
"That is very unfortunate," Mothma replied. "But the fact that Trigger and Luke encountered Vader provides a clue as to why the Emperor did not commence his visit to the Death Star. According to Intelligence, Lord Darth Vader has been reported as missing in action."  
  
Han's eyes widened. "Did the kid shoot him down?"  
  
"If I may say so," Threepio pointed out, "the odds of defeating a pilot of Vader's skills and experience in aerial battle are 5,823 to one."  
  
"I don't think we needed to know that, scrap-bucket," Han snapped.  
  
"Do not forget, Skywalker is an exceptional pilot also," Ackbar replied. "It is possible Luke killed Vader and is attempting to return to the Fleet. We will send a scout party to Sullust to see if he is at our rendezvous point. It is also possible, however, that he and Vader have crashed on a planetoid in Area 51 and cannot leave."  
  
"Whatever the reason for these events, time is now of the essence," Mothma said. "Our war is far from over. Now our tasks are twofold -- find Commander Skywalker, wherever he may be, and seek another means of deposing Palpatine. With the Imperial Fleet in disarray, the time to act is now."  
  
***  
  
As Leia left the conference room, Mothma caught Han by the shoulder and asked to speak with him a moment. They returned to the conference room to talk, just out of Leia's earshot.  
  
Luke missing in action! And Vader possibly on his trail! The news was almost unbearable. Luke was her best friend, nearly a brother, and she knew part of her would die with him if he were to perish. And Vader... the beast from her nightmares, the specter that continued to torment her spirit even though it had been four years since he had tortured her body... he killed Jedi. If he got his hands on Luke, the outcome would be no less than grisly. And she knew, with a certainty that rose from her guts, that the galaxy would be doomed if the last Jedi were to die.  
  
But then... was Luke really the last of the Jedi?  
  
She closed her eyes, wishing she could block the scene from the Ewok village from her mind. It had seemed so hopeless -- Han and Chewie were to be served as the main course at a banquet in honor of Threepio, whom the furry creatures had mistaken for a god. She had tried to reason with their leader despite her ignorance of their language, even tried to get Threepio to dissuade them by telling them that he would get angry and use his magic...  
  
And then, inexplicably, Threepio had flown. The litter on which the Ewoks had carried him into the village had risen in the air and glided over the aerial dwelling, terrifying the natives into releasing the smuggler and Wookie. While the event had been providential, it horrified her.  
  
Luke had mentioned that once, when he was a boy, he and his friend Biggs had been playing near an ancient shipwreck on Tatooine when a band of Tusken Raiders had attacked. According to his story, he had been so scared at the sight of the vicious desert nomads that he had shouted stupidly at their leader "You don't want to attack us!" Incredibly, the Raider stared at him blankly before hooting something to his comrades, and the entire pack had left him and Biggs unmolested.  
  
Leia didn't doubt that Luke had accidentally tapped into the Force during that moment of desperation. But did that mean that she had done something similar on Endor? That incident hinted at powers hidden deep within her, at mysteries she didn't want to see the answers to.  
  
"Leia?"  
  
She looked up to see Han running for her.  
  
"C'mon, let's get to the Falcon," he urged her, putting an arm around her to herd her in that direction.  
  
"Why?" she demanded. "Where's Mothma sending us?"  
  
"Area 51. We're looking for Luke. Trigger'll take Rogue Squadron to sweep near Sullust while we scan the ambush spot."  
  
She stared at him, dumbfounded.  
  
"Don't give me that look, Leia. Mothma's orders. Though I don't like the idea of going through that system. The Empire keeps security tight there, and I've heard weird stories about..."  
  
Chewie barked at him.  
  
"I'm not thinking of backing out, dust mop! Luke's my friend. I'd fly into the Maw to pull him out."  
  
Leia could have wept at Han's noble declaration. Was this the same man that four years ago could only think about gaining a reward from the Rebellion? Somehow she felt that, with Han and Chewie at her side, nothing could harm them. She was so glad they had been chosen to rescue Luke.  
  
/Hold on, Luke. We're coming for you. Hold on./  
  
***  
  
It was only a minor setback, never mind what the Holonet said about the Death Star's destruction being a massive disaster. To Palpatine, losing the superweapon was the equivalent of losing an eyelash. Military leaders, starfleets, legions, planets... all mere pawns in a much grander scheme, all dispensable. If Corusant itself were to be pounded to ashes, its loss would be inconsequential -- as long as he was off the planet before it  
  
blew.  
  
Losing Vader -- now that was a loss worth noting. If the Death Star's explosion was a plucked hair, Vader's disappearance was a severed hand -- replaceable, but the initial loss was devastating, and the replacement would never measure up to the original.  
  
When Vader had failed to return to the Executor, Piett had wisely contacted the Emperor before sending search parties. The Force was unusually strong on that planet, and it did odd things in odd places. Stars knew what would happen to those troops before they could locate Vader.  
  
No, regular scouting parties wouldn't suffice. He needed a searcher who could cope with peculiarities in the Force, who could make themselves invisible if need be, who would never rest until their objective was completed... who was ruthless to an extreme.  
  
A crook of his finger activated the comm.  
  
"Hand."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"Report to my throne room."  
  
"Yes, Master." 


	14. Life Goes On

WARNING -- Contains major Vader-centered mush. Those who don't like stories in which Vader's lighter side is explored would be advised to not continue reading past this point.  
  
Part XIV -- Life Goes On  
  
Trapper had explained his father's computer habits to Luke, so he could pretty much judge Austin's progress on his weekly newspaper column by looking at the monitor. If he was actually working on a piece, he was in his "men at work" mind frame and not to be disturbed. If he was playing a game that required some amount of strategy -- "Zoo Tycoon," "Warcraft," "Age of Empires" -- he was done with this week's column. If he was playing a Star Wars game -- "Yoda Stories," "Galactic Battlegrounds," "X-wing Vs. TIE-fighter" -- he was looking for inspiration. If he was playing a low-key game -- "Mahjongg," "Freecell," "Solitaire" -- he had an idea but was waiting for the pieces to fall together.  
  
If he was whacking his head against the monitor -- like he was now -- it was Deadline Day and he hadn't even started.  
  
"I'm not much on psychology," Luke stated, "so I hope you can clarify this for me. Does giving yourself a concussion stimulate the thought processes?"  
  
"Drop dead," Austin replied.  
  
"Well, what have you got written so far?"  
  
Austin showed him the screen. In bold letters he had typed "Life As a Geek -- by Austin Powers."  
  
"That's a start," Luke replied optimistically.  
  
"Just write about Stellar-Con, Dad," Trapper suggested from the couch, where he was playing with his action figures.  
  
"Stellar-Con?" Austin repeated. "I can sum that up in four words -- better luck next year."  
  
"What about your fan club?" Luke asked.  
  
"Done several. And the editor tells me to keep them few and far between so I don't make the column a sales pitch."  
  
"Costume making?"  
  
"Done that."  
  
"Your son's collection?"  
  
"Done that too." He groaned and slammed his forehead against the keyboard, filling the monitor with rows of the letter "j." "If only I could write about you! 'Luke Skywalker Spends Month in Stargeek's House.' That would up circulation. But I can't."  
  
Luke left him to his moaning and decided to have a look at what Trapper was doing. He had quite the elaborate setup going with his toys, with a stormtrooper wielding a purple lightsaber leading a dozen battle droids against a blaster-toting Kit Fisto and his army of Jawas and Sandpeople, and a Darth Vader figure astride a nexu dueling a  
  
speeder-bike-riding Admiral Ackbar.  
  
"What's going on here?" Luke asked, kneeling beside the couch.  
  
"I'm having fun," Trapper replied, trying to jam a stormtrooper helmet on Obi-wan Kenobi's head. "I like to make things up, do weird things."  
  
"Hmmm." Luke knelt and picked up a Boba Fett figure with Darth Vader's cape on and a Gungan energy lance clutched in his hands. "Thought as much. Stormtroopers don't normally carry lightsabers."  
  
"They do in THIS story!" Trapper gave up on Obi-wan and tossed him aside. "Sometimes its fun to imagine what went on before or after or between the movies, or to just pretend Darth Maul didn't die or Yoda trained Leia instead of you."  
  
Luke chuckled. "I can tell you what happened between Movie Four and Movie Five if you want."  
  
"No way!" Trapper barked, then grinned. "I prefer to imagine. Everyone does. Some people take the books' word for it, but not me. I hate the books. I hate 'Vector Prime.' I haven't read it, but Dad says they kill Chewbacca in that one. They wanted to add realism. Hello? People watch Star Wars to get away from realism!"  
  
"It's more real than they think, but I can see your point," Luke replied, examining a figure that was supposed to be him. /This doesn't look anything like me!/  
  
"There's hundreds of people on the Internet that write stories about Star Wars -- they call it fan fiction," Trapper went on. "Some of the stories are scrud. Some are okay. A lot of them are better than the books. And some are even better than the movies." He wedged a blaster rifle into Sebulba's paws and placed him near the droid army. "It's a great way to share your thoughts and opinions on the movies and characters."  
  
"Have you actually written any of this fan fiction?" asked Luke.  
  
"Not yet. But I'm making up a story about how Darth Sidious found Darth Maul and began training him, and I'm hoping to get it online sometime."   
  
"Sounds interesting."  
  
The clatter of fingers on the keyboard attracted their curiosity. Austin was hunched over the keyboard, rapidly typing something.  
  
"Inspiration strikes back?" Luke quipped.  
  
"Hey, he's copying our conversation!" Trapper realized, miffed. "You'd better be giving me co-author credit, Dad!"  
  
Austin laughed heartily. "Don't worry, Trapper, you get your due mention. You're actually a regular contributor."  
  
"May I use the computer after you're done?" asked Luke. "I'd like to read some of this fan fiction myself."  
  
"Looking for ideas on how to bring your old man back to the light?" inquired Austin.  
  
"No, I'm just curious," Luke replied. "I mean, if someone wrote a story about you, you'd want to check it out, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Austin Owen Powers in a fanfic?" Austin said with a skeptical snort. "That'll be the day."  
  
"It's called 'Goldmember,' Dad," teased Trapper.  
  
"Hey, don't bring Mike Myers into this," ordered Austin as Luke enjoyed a hearty laugh.  
  
***  
  
Fett had the run of the Osmond's house now that the brothers were at work, and he was bored out of his skull. Normally he would spend his infrequent spare moments upgrading or recharging his weapons or making minor repairs or maintenance to the Slave. But the ship was off in the woods somewhere, currently inoperable, and he lacked the proper equipment to either repair the starfighter or tend to his weaponry. Now, with almost an entire day at his disposal and no activities to fill it, he thought he would go mad.  
  
He quit pacing long enough to rummage through the stack of DVDs and videos by the television. Perhaps something here would help him kill the time.  
  
"What Women Want" and "Never Been Kissed" were obvious rejects. So was "Jackass -- the Movie" -- the title was a dead giveaway of the film's quality. He considered "Reign of Fire" but put it aside in favor of "Toy Story." The premise of live, talking children's playthings was offbeat but interesting, and he was intrigued.  
  
Now for some lunch. Jason had given him complete freedom regarding his meals, but he wasn't in the mood for cooking or reheating anything. Maybe there was some tuna fish left over from two nights ago. He reached for the refrigerator door handle -- and spotted a list of telephone numbers attached to the door. Among them were listed the phone codes for the police and fire departments, the local hospital, poison control, animal control, their mom's house and work phone, Austin's home, the zoo where Patrick worked, the garage where Jason worked, and a pizza delivery service.  
  
Tuna fish or pizza? Anyone could make that decision.  
  
He had never used a telephone before, but he had seen Jason operate it when he called in "sick" the day of the barbecue. It couldn't be too terribly difficult. Carefully lifting the receiver, he punched in the code and awaited a reply.  
  
No answer. Had he skipped a vital step? Looking at the receiver again, he spotted a button marked "talk." He pressed it and put the receiver to his ear again, and he was rewarded with three rings and a pleasant female voice.  
  
"Walmart Photo Center. How may I help you?"  
  
Uh-oh. He hadn't anticipated this. "Do you offer services besides photos?" he asked.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"I was trying to order a pizza."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but you've dialed a wrong number."  
  
"Oh." He considered that a moment. "What do I do now?"  
  
"Well, I usually hang up and try again in this situation."  
  
"Yes, thank you ma'am." He pressed the "talk" button again to cut the transmission. Earthlings! And they had given up the Holonet to do this the hard way? He entered the code again, taking time to do it correctly. A male voice answered this time.  
  
"Pizza Hut. This is Brad."  
  
"I would like to order a large pizza," he informed Brad.  
  
"All right, what kind?"  
  
Puzzled silence. "Round?" he tried. In his experience, that was the only kind.  
  
"I mean what toppings would you like, sir?"  
  
That stumped him too. He had learned the names of a few Earth foods, but aside from cheese he couldn't identify any that went on pizza.  
  
"Tuna fish?" he tried.  
  
Brad's silence told him that he'd flubbed. "Ah, sir, we don't put tuna fish on our pizzas, and I don't know of any restaurant around here that does. Would you like to try our Ham and Pineapple Hawaiian Special today?"  
  
Fett didn't know what Hawaiian meant, but he knew about pineapple, and in his honest opinion pineapple just didn't belong on pizza. "What do you like on your pizza?" he asked cautiously.  
  
It must have been a slow day at the restaurant for Brad to put up with such a clueless customer. "Two of our most popular toppings are pepperoni and sausage."   
  
"Sausage," Fett repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth and savoring it. "That sounds good. What is it?"  
  
"We use pork sausage on our pizzas, sir."  
  
"Pork? What's pork?"  
  
"Ummm... that's pig meat, sir."  
  
"Pigs!" He grimaced. Disgusting creatures! They reminded him too much of Ugnaughts and Gamorreans. "Make that a large pepperoni pizza."  
  
"You've got it, sir! Is this a pickup or a delivery?"  
  
"Delivery."  
  
"May I have your name and address, sir?"  
  
"Boba Fett." To himself he said /Stang. Nice one, Fett./  
  
Luckily, Brad took it in stride. "Ha ha. Your real name, sir."  
  
"Robert Francis, number 452 off Highway 48. Look for a white house with gray trim and a large gray shop out back."  
  
"Okay, we'll have that to you within half an hour. Goodbye, sir."  
  
It was actually twenty minutes into the movie when the doorbell rang.  
  
"Whoa, cool costume!" the delivery man exclaimed. "Okay, so that's one large pepperoni pizza. That'll be $12.53."  
  
He started to pull credits out of his leg pouch before recalling that this planet didn't accept Imperial currency.  
  
"What are those?"  
  
"These?" Fett replied, thinking fast. "Republic credit chip props -- ones used in the making of 'The Phantom Menace.'"  
  
"Get out of here!" The pizza guy fumbled for his wallet. "Are they for sale? I only got fifty bucks..."  
  
"I can spare one in exchange for the pizza."  
  
"Uh, can't do that. The pizza money has to go to the boss, and he won't exactly appreciate a movie prop as payment."  
  
"Then a deal. I'll part with this for $12.53." Fett held up a single chip. "You give me the money, I give it back to you, and you give me my pizza. You, your boss, and I come out of this situation satisfied. Deal?"  
  
"Sweet! Good thinking, dude!"  
  
As Fett took the pizza inside and shut the door, he could hear the delivery man say "Sucker! Wonder how much this'll get on e-Bay!"  
  
"Sucker yourself," Fett said with a grin. "There's plenty more where that one came from."  
  
***  
  
Conrad had just left for work, and Diana had shooed Rachel into the living room to watch cartoons. Once they were both gone, she confronted Vader.   
  
"I hate to sound paranoid about yesterday's... incident, but I'd appreciate it if you made sure Rachel can't get to your lightsaber," she requested. "I'm afraid she'll think its a toy and hurt herself."  
  
"An understandable fear," Vader acknowledged. "She is a smart child and knows my weapon is off limits."  
  
Diana sighed with relief. "Thank you. I need to start a load of laundry, so I'll be in the basement if you need me. I'm sure you can keep yourself busy."  
  
After she had departed he went into the living room. Rachel stared, transfixed, at some brightly colored animated children's program. Excluding the fact that it was on a two-dimensional screen rather than a 3-D holovid, it didn't seem any different from any children's holovid show. Even the basic premise of the show -- two children visiting a land of dragons -- had been used in a holovid program on Corusant when he was still a  
  
child.  
  
He browsed the bookshelf while she watched TV. Despite Conrad's undignified job as a construction worker, their family was quite educated, and they prized books and reading highly. Even Rachel, who couldn't read, loved books and couldn't go to sleep without a bedtime story. He smiled privately as he examined the titles and tried to discern their meanings -- "A Midsummer Night's Dream," "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," "Blood of the Fold," "The Time Machine," "Oliver Twist," "The Call of the Wild," "Heir to the Empire," "Ender's Game," and countless others.  
  
One shelf in particular intrigued him. There were no books here, only a few framed pictures and two decorative vases. One of the photos showed a tired-looking young couple, ecstatic smiles on their faces and three newborn babies in their arms. Two others were portraits of single babies, framed alongside such statistics as their names,  
  
birth weights, hair and eye colors, and exact dates and times of birth. Snippets of each child's hair had been pressed between the picture and the glass in a corner of each frame.  
  
He leaned closer and studied the couple. If he wasn't mistaken, those were Conrad and Diana. Did Rachel have siblings? If so, where were they?   
  
"That's my brothers."  
  
Rachel was standing beside him, regarding the shelf with a solemn expression.  
  
"Really," Vader mused as he lifted the family photo. "So that's you in the picture with your parents."  
  
"Yup. I'm part of triplets. My brothers were Noah and Eli."  
  
"Where are they now?"  
  
She stared at him as if he were dense, then pointed at the urns.  
  
"Oh," he breathed, catching on. Deep inside him, a heart he didn't remember having ached for his hosts.  
  
"Daddy said it was something called SIDS," she went on in her usual matter-of-fact tone. "I don't remember what it means. Mommy says that sometimes babies just die."  
  
With infinite care Vader returned the picture. The two boys looked so young, so angelic. They had both died so young, still innocent souls. He clenched a fist in growing anger. It wasn't fair. Neither child had done anything to deserve their fates.  
  
Padme. Shmi. Noah. Eli. Innocents all. All brutally wrenched from this life. Why? There was no justice in it. Why were guilty, evil men allowed to walk alive and free while the blameless, the innocent, suffered? Why did the Force allow the Sandpeople to kill his mother and an infantile disease to kill Rachel's brothers? Why hadn't the Force kept Padme from death?  
  
The Jedi... how he hated them! When he had first begun having nightmares about his mother he had wanted to go back to Tatooine and help her, but they had assured him that the dreams were meaningless. What they had really meant by that was "She's not a Jedi, she's not worth saving, we need you around to do Jedi work, not saving slaves." Their stupid archaic laws forbade him from loving, dooming him and Padme the moment they exchanged wedding vows. It was their fault he was in this awful position, their fault that he was little more than a Force-strong droid-man in the clutches of a deranged megalomaniac...  
  
/No, Vader. It's your fault. They kept you from saving your mother, but it was your decision to let grief consume you. They forbade love, but it was your decision to put a ring on Padme's finger. They made the rules, but it was your decision to break them./  
  
He had to sit down. His anger was fading, the protective barrier against grief and shame was coming down, and both emotions swept through him with unrelenting force. He cradled his masked face in his hands and tried to ignore the sensation of hot fluid coursing down his cheeks. Stars, what had he done? He had suffered horrendous losses, and in response to those losses he had lashed out and destroyed himself and all he came in  
  
contact with. But the Church family, too, had lost something dear and precious, yet they continued to live happy, productive lives.  
  
/I will be the most powerful Jedi ever. I will even learn to keep people from dying./  
  
Ha. What a joke. He, who had vowed to free slaves and save lives, had instead become the bringer of death. At his hand countless thousands had perished, not all innocent, yet many not deserving of their fates. What made him think that he was a victim? Others were victims of his cruelty, and he dared call himself a victim! Now where was justice in that?  
  
/Luke/ he thought bitterly, /what good can you see in me? What is in this wretched armor that you deem worth saving?/  
  
Rachel tapped his knee. "You alright?"  
  
He gave a slow nod.  
  
She didn't buy it. "When I hug Mori, I always feel better." She offered him the Wookie doll.  
  
He stared blankly at the toy and received an equally blank stare in return -- the paint had worn off the doll's plastic eyes long ago. Its fur was matted and snarled and thinning in odd places. He doubted the thing had ever seen any kind of cleaning agent in its lifespan. Nonetheless, to Rachel the doll must have been more priceless than a freighter of Corusca gems.  
  
"Come on!" Rachel urged, practically throwing the doll into his hands. "Mori wants to help you feel better!"  
  
Feeling rather foolish, he squeezed the Wookie briefly against his chest.  
  
"That's not a real hug!" She scrambled onto his lap and threw her arms around him. "Like this!"  
  
Tears began afresh as he returned the girl's embrace.  
  
/Dear Luke/ he thought, /how I wish I could have held you like this when you were a child./  
  
He sensed another presence in the room, and he looked up to see Diana at the doorway. She was smiling gently at the scene. Then she saw the Wookie doll beside him, just out of Rachel's grasp.  
  
"Hand me that?" she mouthed.  
  
Vader carefully floated it toward Diana on a ribbon of the Force, and she took it downstairs to give it a long-needed bath.  
  
When Rachel released him, she seemed not to notice Mori's absence. "I'm watching 'Dragon Tales.' Wanna watch it with me?"  
  
"Not at the moment..."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Oh, all right." He patted her shoulder as she made himself comfortable on his lap. "Just this show, though." 


	15. Good Droid Bad Droid

Part XV -- Good Droid, Bad Droid  
  
One normally didn't think of droids as intelligent, emotional beings, or as beings period. Most people thought of them as appliances -- they mostly did what you told them to, when they broke down you fixed them, and when they REALLY blew a motivator or became obsolete you sold them for scrap and bought new ones. Few realized that they had distinctive personalities, got cranky or depressed, or could become bored.  
  
Artoo was very, very bored at the moment.  
  
He hated it when Steve had to go to work at the electronics store. When the human was at home he would enlist the astromech's help in upgrading some computer software or working the glitches out of the television set. Sometimes they would just pop a movie -- usually Star Wars -- into the VCR or DVD player and let their brains/logic processors rot, or Steve would clean and polish Artoo's plating. But between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon, Artoo was home alone and left to entertain himself. Was it any wonder that he spent so much time meddling with the other machines in the house, just for something to do?  
  
Cautiously Artoo used an arm extender to pick the lock on the closet door. What could be in here? He whistled success and pulled open the door to find various cleaning supplies -- and a strange-looking contraption he'd never seen before.  
  
With a curious tootle he wheeled closer to examine it. It was a little over a meter high, with a handle at the top, a wide foot-shaped base, and a roughly cylindrical body. It didn't reply when he beeped a greeting, so it couldn't be a droid. So what was it?  
  
Extending his grasping arm, he grabbed it and pulled it into the living room to experiment with it. The machine rolled on two small wheels, making the job easier for Artoo. A coil of thick wire hung from one side of it, and this he unraveled and attached to a power outlet. Earth machines were curiously hampered by these cords. He wondered why some bright soul on this world had yet to invent the fuel cell.  
  
How was the machine activated? He could see no computer feed or activation switch, only a pedal-like button near the base. Gingerly he extended a pincer-arm to press it.  
  
A hideous screeching roar assaulted his auditory receptors, and he swiftly deactivated the machine. What had that been? Some nasty by-product of the contraption's actions? If so, did its intended purpose outweigh the accompanying racket? Though his logic processor advised otherwise, he turned the machine back on. This time,  
  
however, he turned down his receptors so the machine's bellow was little more than a low drone.  
  
When nothing happened Artoo wondered if it was broken, but then saw a corner of the drapes being slowly pulled into the machine.  
  
Shrieking in surprise, Artoo hurriedly scanned the contraption for a reverse switch of some kind. Finding none, he grabbed the power cord and rolled backward, yanking the plug from the outlet. Just in time -- another few centimeters and the thing would have been climbing the curtains. With a lot of tugging and pulling Artoo managed to detach it.  
  
So it was some sort of intake device. And since he saw no output orifice of any kind, it must have been a shredder or pulverizer. Now thoroughly intrigued, he plugged it back in and began placing pieces of scratch paper and food wrappers in its path. It seemed to have trouble gulping the larger items, but it eagerly took in smaller chunks of detritus.  
  
Artoo didn't realize the machine had sucked up its own power cord until its roar became a high-pitched scream and sparks began to fly. The droid squealed in panic and tried to disengage the machine from its cord.  
  
By the time Steve came home from work, accompanied by Emily, Artoo was standing sheepishly in the center of the living room, surrounded by various bits and pieces of whatever that thing had been.  
  
He whined pathetically as if to say "Please don't hurt me, I didn't mean to."  
  
Steve and Emily just stared. Then, unexpectedly, they both started laughing.  
  
"Well, I guess this means I won't be able to borrow your vacuum cleaner after all," said Emily with a grin. "Too bad about it for you, though."  
  
"Eh, now I've got an excuse to buy a new one," Steve replied dismissively. "Thing was a piece of junk anyway."  
  
Artoo crooned in relief. He wasn't going to be in trouble after all.  
  
"C'mon, Artoo!" Steve told the droid. "Let's get this stuff cleaned up so we can watch 'Spaceballs' tonight."  
  
***  
  
Fett didn't want to be doing this. It was totally undignified for a bounty hunter to be doing this. The only consolation he had was that no one outside this pitiful system would know what he was doing.  
  
It was just plain dumb luck that he and the Osmonds, while browsing an outdoor flea market, happened to run into the Church family -- minus Vader, who was back at the house meditating or something. Rachel had instantly made an announcement, and she insisted that Fett be the one to accompany her. She probably figured he was the next best thing to Vader.  
  
With a weary sigh he entered a nearby restaurant, the Leapfrog Diner, Rachel in his arms. She made urgent little whimpers as he scanned the establishment. The place was packed with people in costume, and at one large table they jabbered loudly in some strange Earth tongue. A haggard-looking waitress approached him, her expression that of resignation. He knew the feeling.  
  
"Are you with the Tokyo Japan Fan Force Chapter?" she asked.  
  
Rachel answered for him -- loudly. "Gotta go potty!"  
  
Her eyes lit up with both understanding and relief. "Ah," she noted. "Back corner by the kitchen door."  
  
"He's such a sweet father, isn't he?" a fake Padme Amidala said admiringly as he walked past her table. Had his arms not been full, he might have pulled a blaster on her, the mood he was in.  
  
There were two refreshers -- one for men, the other for women. Fett wasn't going to be caught dead in a ladies' restroom, so he pushed open the men's room door.  
  
"Don't wanna go in there!" she protested. "It's the boy's room!"  
  
"Tough," he growled. All the same, he cupped a hand over her eyes.  
  
The bathroom was a mess and didn't smell much better, but at least it was empty save a Grand Admiral wannabe standing at a urinal. Fett waited until he was finished before setting Rachel down and shooing her into a stall.  
  
"Cute kid you got," the Admiral said as he washed his hands.  
  
"She's not mine," Fett said adamantly. Then, to allay any fears that he had kidnapped the girl, he added "She's my niece."  
  
"So you're coming to Nova-Con for some sort of family reunion, eh?"  
  
Fett shrugged. "In a sense."  
  
"Well, I hope your family's not as dysfunctional as the Skywalkers." They shared a laugh as the Admiral departed. "You take care, sir."  
  
"I will."  
  
Rachel was still in her stall, singing as she took care of "business." Fett listened a few moments to her song before realizing he had to go too. He turned to a urinal, undid the armor plate covering the front of his pants, and did some "business" of his own.  
  
Something demanded his attention, something not quite right. Perhaps it was a sound, barely audible but discernible nonetheless. Perhaps it was a faint, unusual smell, or a slight change in air pressure in the room. Whatever it was, it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Was there danger?  
  
A stall door swung open, and instinct screamed out that it wasn't Rachel. He hadn't become the galaxy's best bounty hunter by dismissing instinct. Pinching his fly shut with one hand, he drew a blaster with the other and whirled to face the intruder.  
  
IG-88 -- two metric tons and one-point-eight meters of durasteel and state-of-the-art logic processors, bristling from head to toe with deadly weapons of every type imaginable. The metallic hulk stomped out of its hiding place and leveled a rifle in his direction.  
  
Fett swallowed to relieve his suddenly dry mouth. His blaster wouldn't be of use. Unless one knew exactly where to shoot they couldn't penetrate that thick iron armor, and Fett didn't know where such weak spots were located. He had other weapons that might be more effective against the assassin droid, but he would never be able to draw them before IG-88 riddled him with blaster burns.  
  
"Boba Fett," the droid croaked in a bass, computerized voice. "Caught with your pants down."  
  
Fett managed to fasten his trousers with one hand, never taking his eyes off the machine. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.  
  
"Through the door, the same way you did," IG-88 replied. "Though rather than cause a stir by coming in here in broad daylight, I manipulated the lock and entered at night."  
  
"How did you find me?" Fett hissed, stalling for time while he tried to come up with an escape plan.  
  
"Must I explain? I forget how dense biologicals can be." Fett could have sworn the droid was rolling its photoreceptors at him. "After Jabba the Hutt's demise, I deducted that you would be taking more job offers from Lord Vader, as you have hired your services out to him on several occasions. I also theorized that, as the Holonet stated the Sith Lord was last seen in Area 51, you would logically be there also. From there, it was only a matter of slicing into the Executor's computer to discern Vader's landing point and selecting an ambush site." It gave a low whirr, its version of a laugh. "I never calculated that you would stumble into my trap so quickly."  
  
Fett lowered one hand to a pocket on his thigh, where he kept an item that might help him get out of this sticky situation intact. IG-88's blaster followed his hand as it moved. He needed the blasted machine to look away for a moment so he could pull it out without getting shot.  
  
"You have monopolized the title of 'best bounty hunter in the galaxy' long enough, Boba Fett," IG-88 boomed. "You will die now."  
  
There was the sound of a toilet flushing, and Rachel opened her stall door and began to skip out. She halted in mid-skip and screamed when she saw the droid. The assassin whirled its cylindrical head to locate the source of the noise.  
  
That was all the diversion Fett needed. He jerked the object from his pocket and flung it at the horrid contraption's chest plate. It clanged against the plating and stuck there.  
  
Rachel screamed again as blue-white lightning streamed out of the ion pulser and enveloped IG-88. The droid's arms flailed spasmodically, its electrical systems going berserk. With a hideous mechanical shriek its arms went limp, and its photoreceptors darkened as its systems went offline.  
  
"That was cool!" Rachel said, awed.  
  
"I'm glad you thought so," Fett snarled as he pried open IG-88's chest panel and pulled a thermal detonator out of his pocket. He set its timer for thirty seconds, activated it, and hurriedly planted it in the droid's chest.  
  
"Hurry!" he told her, grabbing her hand.  
  
"I left Mori by the potty!" she shrieked.  
  
He let out an exasperated growl and ran into the stall, retrieving the doll. He scooped her up in his free arm and charged out of the restroom.  
  
The restroom door had barely been shut before IG-88 blew. Due to clever building construction the room was nearly soundproof, but even so the explosion was audible, if muffled considerably. Fragments of steel pelted the door, causing it to shudder ominously. Miraculously, the bathroom contained the detonation, though Fett had no  
  
desire to open the door and check the damage.  
  
/They'll probably pin it on vandals/ Fett decided. /Let them think what they will about the droid parts./  
  
"Bad droid went boom!" Rachel exclaimed as Fett set her down and took her hand. "Boom! Boom!"  
  
He squeezed her hand warningly. "Not a word about this to anyone but your parents, Rachel."  
  
"Okay."  
  
As he and Rachel left the bathroom alcove and began to head for the exit, he saw that all activity in the Leapfrog had come to a halt. Every eye was upon them, demanding an explanation for the noise.  
  
"Do not," he said loudly, "eat the enchiladas." He gave a sighing "Wooooh!" and waved the air in front of his mask as he and Rachel departed.  
  
Behind him he could hear the Grand Admiral ask "Is it too late to change my order?" 


	16. Family Matters

Part XVI -- Family Matters

Luke and Trapper were playing Stratego in Trapper's room, and Luke was losing badly. He'd thought Austin just liked to let his son win, but as it turned out Trapper was quite adept at this game. The first few times Luke had played half-heartedly, trying to be nice to the boy, but when Trapper took him to the cleaners each time Luke began playing dirty, even cheating, but he still couldn't win a single game.

"Eleven in a row," Trapper announced as he gleefully finished that round up. "Another?"

"I think my ego's been bruised enough today," Luke replied.

"Aw, come on!"

"Let's play a different game. You have a lot of them."

Trapper huffed. "I wish I could take some of them home when I go home in July. Mom doesn't like Star Wars. I have to keep most of my collection here 'cause she can't stand the sight of it."

Luke's brow furrowed. He'd assumed Austin was a widower. "You don't live with your dad?"

"No, but I wish I could. Mom lives across the country almost, and she and Dad fight all the time over who gets to see me when. They divorced when I was five."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't make them divorce!" He began setting up the board for a twelfth go-round. "So, how'd you like the fanfic?"

Luke just shook his head. "I found this website called Luke/Vader with some fascinating stories on it. I've been working on 'Force Bond.' I must say, it's a unique story."

Trapper grinned. "At Nova-Con they have a fan fiction contest. You can sign up to be a judge if you want. I have to go home two days before Nova-Con, but Dad's gonna submit a story for me."

"Ah. Interesting."

"There's also a fan art contest and a costume contest and a fan film contest. It's loads of fun! And I have to miss it!" He snorted.

Outside someone screamed, and Trapper ran to the window, flung aside the "Return of the Jedi" curtains, and thrust his head out. Luke joined him to see what the racket was about.

A battered, rust-pocked yellow car was lurching up the road, going far too fast and swerving like a drunken bantha. Someone inside the vehicle was screeching "Brake! The brake! The pedal on the left! No, no, right lane you blockhead!"

The vehicle spun one hundred eighty degrees and came to a halt in front of Austin's house, two of its wheels up on the sidewalk. Amethyst sprang from the passenger side door, laughing and grinning, while Vader emerged from the driver's side door, not looking ruffled in the least.

"Woo-hoo!" she cried. "Not bad for a first-timer! But remember to go the speed limit, okay? If the cops pull you over and you don't have a license, we're both screwed."

"What are you doing?" called Trapper.

"I'm teaching the big guy to drive, just for the heck of it!" Amethyst shouted. "Nothing else to do in this one-horse town until Nova-Con."

"Trapper, is your father home?" inquired Vader, staring up at the two.

"He's in the kitchen, mucking out the oven," Trapper replied. "Just knock and come in."

"I want a word with you, son," Vader added, pointing at Luke, then continued toward the door.

Puzzled but curious as to what Vader wished to discuss, Luke went downstairs, Trapper at his heels. Austin had his head, arms, and shoulders inside the cooking unit, grunting and swearing as he chipped out cinders and fossilized goop. Vader stood near the kitchen, eyeing Luke before he addressed Austin.

"Mr. Powers."

There was a bang and a loud expletive as Austin extracted himself from the oven. Upon seeing Trapper he said "If I catch you using that word I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

Trapper grimaced. "I won't."

"What is it, Lord Vader?" asked Austin.

"Vader," he corrected. "From now on, simply 'Vader' will do."

"All right, what is it, Vader?"

"May Luke and I speak a little in private?"

Austin looked at him suspiciously. "On the condition that I hold your lightsabers until you're done."

Vader handed over his weapon. Luke did the same.

"Trapper, let's go up to your room," Austin suggested. "I'll see if I can't finally whip your tush at Stratego."

"In your dreams," Trapper gloated as they disappeared upstairs.

Luke and Vader entered the living room, and Vader had a seat on the couch. Neither one spoke for a long while. At first Luke wondered if Vader had come here to attempt to kill him again. But if that were the case he would never have surrendered his lightsaber.

Finally Vader spoke. "My son, I owe you an apology."

Luke shrugged. "I don't see what for..."

"Don't give me that, Luke," Vader snapped. "You must be blind if you cannot see what for! I murdered your Jedi instructor. I tortured your friends. I wounded you on Cloud City. I tried to kill you -- you! My own son! -- at the Osmond's party only two days ago! And you tell me I don't owe you an apology?"

Luke shook his head. "No, Father. Because I already forgive you." He looked away. "Because I want us to start over. Because... I want my father back." His eyes stung with unshed tears as he sat beside his father.

Vader couldn't look at him. "I have behaved shamefully, Luke," he moaned. "I have committed one vile act after another. I betrayed the Jedi Order and everything I once stood for. I am not worthy to be called 'father.'"

Luke wanted to deny that, but he kept silent, letting Vader go on talking.

"Just today," Vader continued, "I spoke at length with Amethyst. She told me a little more about the members of Vader's Elite. Without exception, they have all gone through trials that would scare your hair white."

He proceeded to tell Luke about them, about how the Church family lost two boys while they were only infants, how Sparky had escaped serious harm as a soldier in war but became paralyzed in a car accident mere days after his discharge, how Liberty was a survivor of a cancer that left her unable to bear children. How the Osmonds once lived in New York City as members of rival gangs, each never realizing the other was a mortal enemy until they were assigned to assassinate each other, and how they had been forced to flee, leaving their family and all they could not pack in five minutes behind. How Brigham was constantly harassed for being a Mormon and how Liz suffered similar abuse for being Jewish, as did Steve and Emily for being homosexual, a rarity in this conservative town.

Luke was shocked that such seemingly carefree people could have suffered so. Zack never acted as if his sister had been kidnapped and murdered when he was fourteen, and Cody had never revealed that he had an incurable illness known as diabetes that complicated his life. Darcy had been gang-raped at age fifteen, Mike had spent three years in prison, wrongfully convicted of a bank robbery, and Amethyst had spent all her childhood being shuttled from one foster home to another to spare her from her drug-addicted parents.

"And Austin's ex-wife takes sadistic pleasure in denying him the right to see his son on a regular basis," Luke added. "That's all very sad, but why are you telling me this?"

"Look at them, Luke. They have suffered hardships. And have any of them turned into this?" He touched his chest panel. "No. They lived through and continue to live through their trials. They don't let their burdens weigh them down. For the most part, they live happy, productive lives. And I..." He clenched his fists in self-loathing fury. "I destroyed myself. Myself and the Order. I felt justified in what I did because the Order had forbidden me from rescuing my mother when I sensed she was in danger, and because I was banned from marrying my love. I felt Obi-wan and the Jedi had betrayed me. But I now realize I cannot continue blaming them for my fall."

"I'm sure those of the Elite had their bad times too," Luke said quietly. "They bear scars that will never completely heal..."

"Shut up," snapped Vader. "My point is that I cannot continue hiding behind a veil of victimization. My crimes against the galaxy are inexcusable. There is no justification for the atrocities I committed." His broad shoulders trembled. "How can you think there is something in this human wreckage worth saving, Luke? What good can you see in me?"

Lump in his throat, Luke placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "I see a man repentant, Father. A man who recognizes that he has done wrong and wishes to make amends. Above all... I see my father." His voice cracked.

Vader gave a distorted, sarcastic laugh. "Some father I've been. I cut off my own son's hand and try to shove him into a dark destiny that doesn't belong to him. Ah yes, I've been the Father of the Year." He put a hand to the "cheek" of his mask. "Curse this helmet. I can't even wipe my eyes."

"Father... please consider my offer," Luke pleaded. "About coming back to the Alliance with me."

"I'll need some time," was Vader's quiet reply.

Abruptly he pulled Luke to his chest, embracing him. At that, Luke lost all composure. Hot tears washed his cheeks as he held tightly to his father, to all he had left of a family. He hated his father's crimes, but he could no longer hate the man behind the mask.

"Forgive me, Luke," Vader choked. "For leaving you without a father. I should have been there for you. I swear to you, Luke, I will do all in my power to make restitution for leaving you fatherless."

"I believe you," Luke croaked through his tight throat.

He didn't know how long they sat there on the couch, hours or mere minutes, sharing their first true father-and-son moment ever. All he knew was that he finally became aware of an insistent rapping.

"Someone down there get the door!" Austin shouted.

Vader released Luke, stood, and opened the front door. Boba Fett awaited him, the Osmond's car just departing.

"You're here," Fett noted, stating the obvious. "Good. We need to talk. Where's Austin?"

"Right here," Austin answered, descending the stairs. "Trapper's in his room on his Game Boy Advance. Want me to call him down?"

"Not necessary."

"Come on in," Austin offered. He led his guest into the living room. "Luke, are you okay? Your eyes are all red."

Luke wiped his nose on his sleeve. "It's the fumes from the oven cleaner."

"I see," Austin replied, not entirely convinced. "Use a tissue." He sat down on the coffee table while Vader returned to the couch and Fett claimed the computer chair. "What's the problem, Fett?"

"I was at an outdoor market with the Osmonds and Churches and had to take Rachel to the restroom," he explained. "In the men's room of the Leapfrog Diner, we were ambushed by an assassin droid named IG-88."

Austin gave a low whistle. "You two okay?"

"Yes," Fett replied. "I destroyed it. Unfortunately, I used a detonator and destroyed the restroom in the process."

Austin whistled again. "Nasty. Suppose they'll blame it on a gas leak, though."

"How did it find us?" Luke wondered, stunned. He'd thought Area 51 was secure and out-of-the-way enough to deter bounty hunters.

"The important thing is that it traced us, not how it did so," Vader said balefully. "I sense IG-88 will not be the last visitor we encounter."

"What can we do?" asked Austin. "We don't have blasters or shields here. How can we protect ourselves?"

"Keep an eye out for suspicious activity," Vader replied. "Avoid anyone who seems unfamiliar with aspects of Earth life. If you suspect someone might not be of Earth origin, report them to us."

"And if it's just someone visiting from another country for the convention, what then?" Austin inquired.

"Once we have ascertained he is native to your world, we will let him go about his business," Vader answered. "At this point, I would rather err on the side of caution."

Austin nodded. "I'll inform the others."

Fett stood, satisfied that a conclusion had been reached. "I must go."

"Need a ride?" asked Austin.

"I'll walk," he replied.

"Vader, you need a ride?"

"No thank you," Vader said. "Amethyst is waiting outside. I'll go with her."

"Don't wreck her car," Austin warned. "Just 'cause it looks like a piece of junk doesn't mean she doesn't like it. Sith or no, she'll skin you alive and use your hide to upholster the car if you so much as dent it."

Vader chuckled. "Her and what army?"

The Dragon Stone was a cozy nook about the size of a Y-wing hangar, its walls positively crammed with books. Another bookshelf down its center was marked "New Releases," and tables and chairs invited patrons to sit and stay awhile after making their selections. In one corner, magazines were available for purchase; in another, a sign proclaimed "Pastries Fresh-Baked: $1 -- Free Coffee." Pictures of savage dragons, sleek starships, fearsome monsters, armored warriors, and powerful magicians decorated the walls above the shelves.

It was a decidedly pleasant place to spend the afternoon, Fett decided as he pushed open the door, a set of chimes announcing his entrance.

The Osmonds were gracious enough to let him stay at their place, but he could only take so much of their noise, mess, and madness. He had to get out, move around, and Star City during the Eye of the Storm was the perfect time and place to do so without his armor drawing stares. Besides, Cody had told him about a book series featuring none other than himself titled "The Bounty Hunter Wars," and Jason and Patrick didn't own that series. He wanted to check the novels out.

There were five other customers in the Dragon Stone. One, an average-looking young adult male, browsed through a section marked "Classic Sci-fi -- Shakespeare -- Mythology." Two Stargeeks, one in scouttrooper armor and the other in Luke Skywalker's Tatooine garb, sat at a table in the far corner and gawked their way through a "Star Wars Insider" magazine. A Rebel in Hoth gear was finishing up his purchase of a stack of "New Jedi Order" novels, and a Zam Wessel quietly read her own book at a center table.

Fett scowled. He'd hoped not to run into Liz today. He'd about had enough of that woman. He made his selections and took them to the register. 

"Good afternoon, Robert," Liberty greeted as she rang up his purchases. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Cody recommended these," he replied, pulling a bill out of his pocket and handing it over -- Patrick had given him a little spending money after finding out about the pizza incident. "Now to go back to the Osmonds' to see if his praise is accurate."

"Why don't you sit here and read?" invited Liberty. "There's plenty of table room."

Fett turned to regard Liz, then faced Liberty again.

"I see," she noted. "Well Rob, you can't make everybody happy. But you don't have to let her animosity ruin your life either. Just try to be cordial, okay?"

A young man in jeans and a "Lord of the Rings" T-shirt stuck his head out of a back room. "Miss King, the publisher called. Our shipment of 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' got backordered."

Liberty groaned. "Terrific. What else can go wrong? I was counting on those to up business!"

Fett turned toward the door, then reconsidered. Liz had spunk, despite her stubbornness, and though she annoyed him, she also intrigued him. He took a seat at her table, slapped the books onto the table, and waited for her to notice him. She was so deeply engrossed in "Wizard's First Rule," however, that she hadn't seen him approach.

"Liz."

She gasped and nearly jumped out of her chair. "Oh, it's you."

"Liz, for the last time, drop the blaster incident. Don't let it ruin the rest of the Eye of the Storm for you." When she didn't reply he reached over and pulled off her headphones. "Can you hear me?"

"Give those back!" she hissed. "That's Fleetwood Mac! You don't mess with Fleetwood Mac, bucko!"

He ignored her and clapped them over the auditory enhancers on his helmet. Though he was by no means a connoisseur of music, he had heard many songs -- or noise that passed itself off as songs -- over the years, and this was by far some of the best music he'd ever heard. He began tapping one foot to the beat, but Liz ripped the headphones from him.

"I can see why you wear those all the time," he noted.

"All right, all right, I forgive you," she humphed. "But don't expect me to trust you."

"As well you shouldn't. I am a bounty hunter first and forever."

"Then go hunt something and leave me alone," she snapped, standing. "And take off the stupid mask once in awhile!"

Cody entered the store just as she was exiting, and the two nearly collided. He noted her mood, sat down at Fett's table, and began caterwauling.

"Loooooooooooooove is a many-spleeeeendored thiiiiiiiing..."

"Shut up," growled Fett.

"Love lifts us up where we belong... All you need is love..."

"What are you wailing about?"

"Oh come off it! You got the hots for Liz, don't ya?"

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not -- is it really that obvious?"

Cody grinned in mischievous triumph. "It always works out like that in the movies -- the more a guy and a girl hate each other, the more likely it is that they'll eventually fall in love."

"'Love' is too strong a word," Fett defended. "My father warned me off women, and I've avoided females for too long to make a sudden change now. But I must admit, she's a fiery one."

"Gets it from her mixed bloodlines."

"Mixed bloodlines?"

"Sure. Lots of people here in the U.S. have blended ethnicities, but hers is an odd combo even for an American. Her mother's mother was Japanese, her mother's father was Native American, her father's mother was Jamaican, and her father's father was Romanian Jew. I like to think that her genes are so mixed up that they make her cranky all the time, but that's just my opinion."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Cody."

"Forget it. Just take it from me -- she's not one to be trifled with. Many a boy has tried to slay the dragon of her heart and lost the battle."

He shrugged. "Perhaps they haven't used the right weapon. Any suggestions for this warrior?"

"I dunno. Try fortitude."

"Fortitude?"

"Yup. If you can get your foot in the door, don't give an inch. I've seen her use some pretty harsh pesticides against ex-boyfriends who wouldn't take a hint and go away. I think the bug who gets her will be the bug who keeps coming back for more."

Fett nodded slowly, chewing over this information. "Fortitude."

"Good luck, Romeo," Cody grinned. "You're gonna need it."


	17. The Gift

AUTHOR'S NOTE -- Those who have read this story previously on the Luke/Vader Writers website will notice this chapter is new. It was written after the story was complete, in response to a writing challenge in which writers submitted a story that included Luke, Vader, a Father's Day type holiday, something squishy, and the phrase "I swear I will not kill anyone." Warning -- high mush content.  
  
Chapter XVII -- The Gift  
  
Luke rolled carefully off the hide-a-bed in Austin's living room, swinging his legs down over the edge. Another day on Earth. What wonders would the planet and its people have in store for him today? He was quite enjoying his stay here, for while his life had always been full of surprises, the surprises on Earth were normally not as dangerous as... oh, say a three-meter wampa ice monster or a moon-sized battle station.  
  
His first surprise of the day was the sensation of something cold and squishy between the toes of his right foot as he started to get out of bed.  
  
/Ewww./ He winced and looked down. A bowl of soggy brown matter dotted with what appeared to be dried berries sat on the floor just beside his bed. Beside that, Trapper lay on the floor, still in his "Jurassic Park" pajamas, scribbling something down on a yellow legal pad.  
  
"What's this stuff?" Luke asked, lifting his foot.  
  
"Oh, it's Raisin Bran," Trapper replied without looking up. "I like to add the milk and let it get nice and mushy before I eat it."  
  
"I see. And what's it doing by my bed?"  
  
He looked over, and his eyes got big when he saw what had happened. "Oops! Don't move, or you'll get it in the carpet and Dad'll kill me! I'll get you a washcloth!"  
  
Trapper grabbed the bowl and ran out of the room. Luke took advantage of his absence to sneak a glance at the pad. It was difficult to decipher the boy's hastily scrawled handwriting, but he could just make out the title -- "Life as a Geek."  
  
"Here," Trapper told him, handing him a damp rag. In his other arm he cradled two more bowls of Raisin Bran. He handed one to Luke and set the other down farther away from the bed, then returned to his writing.  
  
"What are you up to?" asked Luke, wiping the gunk from his foot.  
  
"It's my dad's Father's Day present," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm going to write his column for him so he doesn't have to spazz out later 'cause of writer's block."  
  
"Father's Day?"  
  
"Come on, don't tell me they don't have Father's Day on Tatooine!"  
  
"Not as long as I've lived there. The Republic might have had a father-oriented holiday, but the Empire got rid of most of the Republic holidays when it came into power. All we have left are Life Day, New Year's Day, Imperial Inception Day, and the Emperor's birthday."  
  
Trapper made a sour face. "Who'd wanna celebrate HIS birthday? Didn't he get tired of birthdays fifty years ago?"  
  
Luke laughed.  
  
Trapper tossed his pencil aside. "There, done. Now to type it out before Dad gets up." He stood up and went to the computer.  
  
Father's Day, eh? Luke thought on that as he changed into jeans and a dark blue Spiderman T-shirt, both loaners from Cody. So Earth people were to honor their fathers today. If only he'd had a little advance warning! He could have prepared something for his own paternal parent.  
  
He thought back on his conversation with Vader yesterday. That had been the single most incredible day of his life -- being truly reunited with his father. He had been right. Anakin lived on inside the shell of Vader and wanted desperately to emerge. But while their heartfelt discussion had managed to crack that shell, it would take much more effort on both their parts to strip it away entirely.  
  
Trapper grumbled and slammed down on the backspace key, evidently not pleased with how a particular section had come out. At least Luke wasn't the only one having problems with Father's Day gifts.  
  
He reached under the sofa and pulled out his duffel bag, an item Fett had retrieved from his X-wing for him. Was there something in here that would work? He upended the bag over his bed, its contents landing in a chaotic jumble. Pulling out his lightsaber, flight suit, and Jedi clothes, he set them aside and sorted through the rest.  
  
"Hey, how do you spell 'midi-chlorians?'" asked Trapper.  
  
"Huh? Oh, M-I-D-I-dash-C-H-L-O-R-I-A-N-S."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Luke picked up his blaster, examined it, then threw it aside. A survival pack and medkit were similarly rejected. Handful of Imperial credits -- no good on Earth, and besides, there were far too few for even a public pay-comm call, much less anything of significant value. His medal for destroying the Death Star -- too personal to Luke. A datapad containing a Mon Calamari fantasy novel -- was Vader even into reading? He hadn't a clue.  
  
At last he lifted the last item. A carved, polished chunk of jappor, a semi-precious stone from Tatooine, hung from an eopi-leather cord, and on either side of the stone were glistening hematite beads about the size of Earth peas, each painted with tiny gold symbols in a language he didn't understand.  
  
He didn't know where it had come from, only that he'd owned it all his life. When he'd asked Uncle Owen about its origins, the stern man had gruffly changed the subject. Aunt Beru had been much kinder about the question but had only given the vague answer "It was a gift from a relative." Luke had felt curiously attached to the piece and had worn it often, despite teasing from the other farm kids who had jeered that jewelry was for girls.  
  
Perhaps, he thought idly, his father would appreciate the gift. Maybe he'd like an artifact that reminded him of his homeworld.  
  
"Mornin', Luke," Austin mumbled, shuffling down the stairs in his bathrobe and pajama bottoms. "What're you up to, Trapper?"  
  
Trapper flung his arms over the monitor to hide the text. "Nothing."  
  
Austin cracked a smile. "Look at that. Nine years old and already got a porn problem."  
  
"Do not!" Trapper protested.  
  
"Then why won't you let me see the screen?"  
  
He backed away from the computer. "Uh... I wrote a column for you, Dad. Happy Father's Day."  
  
Austin and Luke both read the column, which began: "Hi, I'm Trapper, Austin's son. I'm nine and I'm a Star Wars fanatic too. You've probably heard of me. Well, because today is Father's Day I'm going to write 'Life as a Geek' for my dad this week. And this week we're going to talk about why the ending of 'Return of the Jedi' really sucks!"  
  
The column was a surprisingly well-written argument against Anakin's death at the end of the film. Despite a number of spelling and mechanical errors, Austin was obviously pleased.  
  
"It's perfect, son," he told him. "I'll send it to my editor right away!" He swept Trapper up in an enormous hug.  
  
Luke gave a sad smile as he watched the display of affection. How he'd missed having a father when he was young.  
  
"Don't pout, Luke," Austin teased. "Here, I'll hug you too." And he nearly squeezed the breath out of him with a crushing embrace.  
  
"Oof!"  
  
"Better?" asked Austin.  
  
"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his sides. "Hey, can I get a ride once you're dressed?"  
  
"Sure thing. Where ya off to?"  
  
He ran a thumb over the aged jappor snippet. "The Churches'. It's Father's Day, and I need to see my father."  
  
***  
  
Vader chastised himself for oversleeping as he made his way down the stairs toward the den. This Earth life was far too comfortable, and he was growing lax in his daily routine. He would have to push himself harder to compensate for this lapse.  
  
The basement of the Churches' home, a combination laundry room and storage area, was plenty big for a practice session with his lightsaber. Too bad he hadn't any dueling droids or a holographic target. But Diana had specified what items down here were junk and which were off limits, so he was free to construct his own training area.  
  
He raised his lightsaber to his brow in a salute, ignited it, and went into a deep lunge, slicing the legs out from under an imaginary opponent. Whirling, he went through a series of fencing motions before ending with a forward thrust that punched through the chest of a broken dress-making mannequin. Then he yanked the weapon free and swiped to either side as if warding off blaster fire.  
  
Now for a challenge. First he picked up two old tennis balls and threw them at the ceiling. Then he tossed the saber into the air, executed a back flip, and caught the weapon in midair. Before his feet hit the ground he had chopped the first ball in half. His boots struck the concrete floor seconds before the pieces of both balls landed, the second one having been cut while the saber had been out of his hands.  
  
Finally he closed his eyes, visualizing the image of a Jedi before him, saber drawn for battle. He exchanged blows with his shadow-opponent, drawing on techniques from both the Jedi Order and his Sith training, occasionally inventing new moves or blending different styles. A competent fighter used what he knew; a superior warrior could use that knowledge to create something new and better.  
  
Then it happened. As he was about to deliver the killing blow, the Emperor's face superimposed itself over the image of the Jedi.  
  
He hesitated, neglecting to strike out, but he had already made his forward lunge and couldn't check his momentum. He tripped over a box of books and tumbled head over heels into a pile of tent poles. His lightsaber skidded away, the automatic safety kicking in to deactivate the blade.  
  
For a moment he just lay there, too startled to feel embarrassed. Where had that come from? Fantasizing about killing his master! Sure, he hated the deranged dictator, but he'd never entertained the notion of murdering him.  
  
With a grunt he extracted himself from the heap, then picked up his weapon and clipped it to his belt. Ever since his discussion with Luke he'd been in constant conflict with himself. Did he really want to take Luke's offer and join the Alliance? Would they even accept him? And did he even want to change sides? The prospect terrified him. He'd been immersed in darkness so long that the mere notion of going back to the light  
  
was painful.  
  
From upstairs came a loud clatter. He moved to ascend the stairs and investigate, then paused, one foot still raised to mount the steps. He hadn't finished his required drills...  
  
A totally alien sound emerged from his throat. It took him a moment to figure out it was amused laughter. Here he was, thousands of light years from Imperial Center, and he was still sticking so rigidly to the daily schedule the Emperor had drawn up for him! Well, the Emperor wasn't here to enforce it, was he? He was free to end his drills whenever he wanted or even skip them entirely. He grinned rebelliously and climbed the stairs, relishing his newly realized freedom.  
  
Rachel was in the kitchen, wiping up orange juice with a wad of paper towels. The juice pitcher -- plastic, fortunately -- lay on the floor, its contents sprayed across the kitchen as if a lubricating droid had suffered an electronic seizure. She looked up at him and grinned mischievously.  
  
"I dropped it," she announced.  
  
"I noticed." He bent down to help her clean up. "What are you doing up this early?"  
  
"I got up to make Daddy breakfast in bed," she said proudly. "I made him a present too."  
  
"A present?" He gathered the paper towels in a ball and tossed them in the trash bin. "What's the occasion?"  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"What's the special day?"  
  
She leaned toward him and whispered. "It's Father's Day. I hope Daddy likes his book. I made it all by myself, except Mommy wrote the words." She turned toward the table and carefully removed a tray containing a slightly overdone piece of toast, a cup of yogurt, a muffin, a glass of juice, a flower snitched from the garden, and the handmade book titled simply "My Daddy."  
  
"Do you need help?" asked Vader.  
  
"Nuh-uh." Then she reconsidered. "You can open the door. Mommy locks it sometimes."  
  
He strode toward the door, listened a moment to ensure nothing unfit for children's eyes was going on, and nudged it open. Then he moved away and leaned against the wall to think while Rachel tiptoed in and yelled "Surprise, Daddy!"  
  
"What is it, Rachel -- oh, how sweet!"  
  
"You did this all by yourself? Wow, you're getting so big!"  
  
Vader listened to the happy chatter a moment, oddly wistful. The closest thing he had ever had to a father had been his old Master, Obi-wan Kenobi, and he had killed him. At the time that murder had brought him a sadistically sweet feeling of satisfaction. Now, however, he regretted it deeply. How could he destroy his friend so easily?  
  
/Luke/ he thought suddenly. /He was Luke's master too. Stars, doesn't Luke hate me for that? Doesn't he hate me for ANYTHING I've done to him?/  
  
He already had that answer, of course. Luke hated Vader, not his father. But couldn't the boy accept that the two were one and the same?  
  
Abruptly he entered the bedroom. Rachel was seated on the bed between Conrad and Diana, and they were all chuckling over her book.   
  
"I need to borrow a car," he said shortly.  
  
Conrad glanced up. "Uh... no offense meant, Lord Vader..."  
  
"Just Vader."  
  
"No offense meant, Vader, but I've seen you drive. I don't really want either car involved in an accident, especially with an uninsured driver..."  
  
"I swear I will not kill anyone," Vader promised, holding up his hands. "I will be careful."  
  
Conrad dug around in the junk on his nightstand. "We've got church today, so we'll need the van available. Will the old Toyota do?"  
  
Vader nodded and caught the keys Conrad tossed to him. Quickly he made his way to the front door. Was Luke still at the Powers' house, or would he be in town?  
  
Question answered. When he opened the door, his son was standing there, hand poised to press the doorbell.  
  
"Luke?"  
  
"Hello, Father. Uh, sorry to spook you. Can I come in?"  
  
Vader motioned for him to enter. "I was about to come meet you. There are things we must discuss."  
  
***  
  
The Church family had just departed for their morning church services, leaving Luke and Vader alone in the house. They sat at the kitchen table, not talking, mulling over how to begin their conversation.  
  
"I had an entire speech planned before you showed up," Vader said at last. "Now that you're here, I have forgotten it."  
  
"I'm sorry," Luke replied. "Was it a good speech?"  
  
Vader shrugged. "It seemed so at the time. Now I'm not sure."  
  
Luke slid the box in his hand across the table toward him. "This is for you. A Father's Day gift."  
  
He shook his head and pushed it back. "I am not deserving of this. Owen was more of a father to you than I. You should honor his memory instead of chasing ghosts."  
  
Luke pushed it at Vader again. "No, Father. I love my uncle and aunt and always will. But in calling Owen my father I deny my birthright. I deny my Jedi heritage. But most of all, I deny you a second chance."  
  
A sour chuckle. "And you honestly think I deserve that second chance?" He slid the box to Luke again.  
  
"Let's not go through this again," Luke said firmly, sliding the gift toward Vader. "You are my father. I am your son. You told me yourself. Yoda told me. Ben finally 'fessed up and told me. Stang, I can even go get a DNA test to prove it if you want! You're all I have left of a family. Don't reject me now, please."  
  
Vader lifted the box as if to throw it at Luke, then set it down with a clap. "You don't give up easy, do you?"  
  
Luke smirked. "Must be the infamous Skywalker stubborn streak."  
  
"Uproariously funny, Luke," Vader replied sarcastically, opening the box and removing a wad of tissue. "If your Force talents were equal to your wit..."  
  
When he never finished the remark Luke wondered if he'd made a mistake. Did Vader think the gift inappropriate, insulting, or just plain weird? After all, few people gave jewelry to a Dark Lord.  
  
Vader lifted the necklace, the leather cording draped over his fingers. He handled it with such reverence -- tenderness, even -- that Luke took back his previous thought.  
  
"Where did you get this?" he demanded quietly.  
  
"I've had it since... as long as I can remember."  
  
The lenses of Vader's mask locked with Luke's eyes. "Luke, you saw 'The Phantom Menace.' Remember on the Queen's shuttle, right after we'd left Tatooine?"  
  
Luke suddenly understood. He remembered that scene, when the boy who would become Darth Vader had given a gift to the girl who would become his wife, a stone carving on a leather cord, a token to remember him by.  
  
A token that, save the beads, was identical to the one Vader held.  
  
"I made the carving for your mother when I was a boy," Vader went on, voice rough. "On our wedding day she wore it beneath her veil, and a Gungan craftsman added the beads." He touched one bead with his thumb. "The writing on this one is High Gungan for 'strength,' with the symbol on the reverse meaning 'magician.' It was the  
  
closest word their language had for 'Jedi.'" His thumb moved to caress the other bead. "This one reads 'royalty' on one side, 'beauty' on the other. These beads were meant to symbolize us and our union."  
  
"My mother... gave that to me?" Luke asked, stunned.  
  
"It's the only way it could have... fallen into your hands," Vader replied, a catch in his voice. "I never thought I'd see it again... not after she... died..." His voice trailed off with what sounded like a sob, and his head bowed down as his shoulders quaked with emotion.  
  
Luke moved to his father's side, placing a supportive arm around his father's shoulders as he wept. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to bring back distressing memories."  
  
Vader's empty hand came up to rest on Luke's. "You have no... reason... to be sorry. Any memories I carry... are my own doing." His head straightened as he struggled to regain composure. "I haven't cried like that in too many years."  
  
Luke tightened his embrace. He understood. These were healing tears, as if they cleansed out an infection. The crack in Vader's shell was widening, and more of Anakin was emerging.  
  
"When this is all over," Luke declared, "I want to hear all about my mother."  
  
"We can discuss her anytime you wish," Vader promised. He gently laid the necklace in its box and closed the lid. "I thank you for the gift, son. It means so much to me." He stood. "And now, seeing as it's Father's Day, I would like to do something to honor my own father. Why don't you accompany me?"  
  
"Your father?" Luke's brow furrowed. "But I thought you had no father."  
  
***  
  
The lightsaber looked as well-cared for as it had four years ago, when its previous owner had wielded it in battle one last time. Someone had painstakingly polished and filed away unsightly scratches, refastened the loosening grips, and cleaned out the circuits, leaving it in prime condition. Luke knew if he were to activate it, a rich  
  
shimmering beam of azure would spring forth. But he only cradled the weapon in one hand, amazed that he was seeing it again.  
  
"Obi-wan was my father, in a sense," Vader explained, taking the weapon from Luke. "He was genuinely concerned for my well-being, enough to warn and chastise me when he saw me going astray. He loved me enough to come after me and fight me one last time in an effort to bring me back to the light. And he loved me enough to allow me to kill him rather than strike me down. I was too blind, too self-centered, to recognize  
  
such actions as loving, but now I see he had no desire to harm me.  
  
"After you fled the Death Star with Han and the princess I burned his robes, but found I couldn't bring myself to destroy his lightsaber. I kept it with me at all times, hoping I'd soon work up the courage to dispose of it. But I never did."  
  
Luke and Vader stood in a tiny clearing deep in the White Deer Forest. It was an unusually cool day for June, and a gentle breeze stirred the trees so they swayed against the smoky-gray sky. A scant fifty kilometers away, the sound of a watercraft cruising around White Deer Lake added its hum to the sighing of the wind.  
  
"He deserves a proper funeral," Luke murmured. "Will you deliver the eulogy?"  
  
"I would be honored."  
  
Luke knelt before the tiny hole he had dug and placed in it the stand-in for Obi-wan's body -- an action figure they had secured at Wal-mart on the way here, then tenderly wrapped in cloth and put in an old jewelry box. Then he patted dirt over the "grave" and gently ran his hand over the makeshift gravestone. Vader had located a  
  
suitably sized and colored rock, used his lightsaber to slice the front so it was smooth as marble, and utilized a laser drill from the supplies in Luke's X-wing to carve words into its surface. The marker read "Obi-wan Kenobi -- Jedi Knight, Mentor, Father, Friend."  
  
"Obi-wan Kenobi, Knight in the service of the Jedi Order, has been laid to rest," Vader intoned, using the traditional blessing he had heard at many Jedi funerals, among them those of Qui-gon Jinn, Yaddle, and Yarael Poof. "In life he was a servant of the Force, but in death he is one with it. May those who called him student, master, comrade, or friend not mourn, for he has found a more noble calling than the material world permits. There is no death; there is the Force."  
  
The two of them raised their own lightsabers to their foreheads in salute, then turned and went back to the clearing where the X-wing, TIE, and Slave sat. In the old times the Jedi Order would dismantle a fallen Jedi's weapon for parts or give it to a Padawan learner until he built his own weapon. But Luke and Vader felt taking Obi-wan's lightsaber apart would profane his memory. Vader would keep it until they left the planet.  
  
They found Boba Fett kneeling by the Slave, whispering in an unknown tongue. When he finished and saw them approach he stood and nodded in greeting.  
  
"Thinking about your father?" asked Luke.  
  
Fett nodded again. "Honoring his memory by saying a prayer to the good spirits. It IS Father's Day, after all."  
  
"Come back to town with us," Vader offered. "It's a long walk. And as long as we're on Earth, we may as well stick together."  
  
The Sith Apprentice, bounty hunter, and Jedi Knight walked side by side toward Conrad's Toyota, lost in their own private thoughts, in a rare moment of cease-fire. 


	18. The Falcon Has Landed

Part XVIII -- The Falcon Has Landed

Two weeks had passed. There had been no sign of Imperial or Rebel search parties, and the castaways didn't know whether to be glad or not. To be truthful, none of them wanted to leave Earth or their newfound friends. But at the same time they knew their fates lay in the "real" galaxy, not here, and that sooner or later they would have to return to their lives outside the system.

Tonight, however, they could forget about the Galactic Civil War. For it was the American Independence Day, a night of celebration and high spirits. Once again the crew had gathered at the Osmonds' for food, music, and games. This time, however, they held the gig outside, with the brothers barbecuing hot dogs, steaks, and burgers on the grill. Conrad and Diana doled out sparklers and firecrackers and kept a close watch on those wielding them. Amethyst, Vader, and Steve played a little football on the lawn against Brigham, Mike, Luke, and Zack, the dim twilight making the game even more challenging. A makeshift stage had been set up with concrete blocks and plywood, and here Liberty performed songs honoring the Elite's home country.

"Happy Fourth of July!" Cody bellowed, waving his sparkler as if he were flagging a cab.

Luke, exhausted from the game and clutching an ice pack against his bruised forehead, collapsed on a bench and watched as Emily tried to light a stubborn Roman Candle. He hadn't had so much fun in a long time. Part of him felt guilty for being on a vacation of sorts while the Rebellion worked, but it hadn't been his decision to crash here. Besides, the last four years had been rough. He thought he deserved a little time off.

"Hut!" bellowed Steve, crouching on the lawn with one hand on the ball. "Hut! Hut! Hut! Hike!"

He pelted the ball to Vader, who raised it over his head to pass to Amethyst for a goal. Brigham slammed into the Dark Lord, gripped him around the waist, and tried his hardest to pull him down for a tackle. Vader glanced down at his futile efforts, then lobbed the ball to Amethyst.

"Score!" she shouted, throwing it down for a spike.

Brigham groaned. "Can we PLEASE change this to touch football?" he begged.

In the light of the blazing Roman Candle Luke could see Fett and Liz talking quietly on a bench near the stage. He smiled. Those two were obviously an item, despite their initial mutual hatred. Tonight the woman had actually gone so far as to invite the hunter to sit next to her.

"Tired already?" Sparky asked Luke, pushing his chair next to the young Jedi.

"A bit," Luke confessed, removing the ice pack and gingerly touching his bump. "Football in the dark's pretty rough."

"Your old man seems to be having the time of his life. And you were doing well too, up until you and Vader knocked skulls."

Luke chuckled. "I can't explain it. A year ago he was this close to decapitating me on Cloud City." He held apart his thumb and forefinger a few centimeters. "And now we're playing games together! Sure, things aren't perfect, but with everything that's gone on in our lives you can't expect them to be."

Sparky smiled. "With everything you two have been through, I'm surprised things have turned out this good."

He nodded acknowledgment and took a long swig from his soda bottle, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Does Liberty sing professionally?"

"Not anymore. When she was in high school she joined a band called Cloning Luke that released a couple of albums. Now she just sings for herself. Amazing singer. She puts her whole heart and soul into a performance. Of course, that means she's exhausted at the end of each show. She did an hour-long concert last year at the close of Nova-Con and passed out on the stage."

Luke laughed heartily.

"It's a beautiful night," Sparky went on. "You can see the galaxy." He pointed to a misty band striping the sky. "I always wanted to go into space, you know. I was a boy when our planet finally sent an explorer to our moon. When I saw Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong on TV, I knew that was what I wanted to be -- an astronaut. I kept myself in good shape so I could join the space program, got science scholarships, did a stint in the army. But after my accident..." He gestured helplessly at his legs. "That's why I 'went all Star Wars,' as my wife calls it. Through the movies and the fandom surrounding them, I was able to let my mind go where my body couldn't."

Luke squeezed Sparky's hand in sympathy. "When my friends arrive, I promise I'll take you for a ride in a starship before we leave."

Sparky blinked back moisture. "Thank you for the offer, Luke."

Liberty plucked away at her guitar, her Lady Vader armor sparkling in the light of the fireworks. The metallic embroidery of her Chinese dragon cloak glittered as she shifted her guitar, which also bore a rampant dragon across its surface. Her song, the American anthem, carried powerfully over the noise of the celebration, her voice clear and vibrant.

At the end of the song, as if on cue, green fire blossomed in the sky, followed by bursts of red, blue, violet, and gold as the Star City Fireworks Display began. Everyone cheered at the unintended finale to Liberty's song. Everyone except Liberty, who gave a shaky bow and sat down on the edge of the stage to recover.

"Daddy, Daddy, the fireworks!" Rachel shouted, pulling on her father's pant leg.

"I know, sweetheart."

"And look! A shooting star! Make a wish!"

Luke abruptly shot to his feet. A reddish object arced across the sky behind the fireworks, angling for the woods. He had seen plenty of meteors in his lifetime, and that was no meteor.

It was a starship.

_Break…_

"Leave it to the Gungan to forget to give us exact coordinates," humphed Han as the Falcon slipped quietly past yet another TIE formation beyond Area 51's fourth world.

It had taken nearly six days for the Falcon to make the hyperspace journey, which included a pit stop at Bespin to refuel and replenish supplies. Then it had taken eight more days so far to thoroughly search the system for a life pod, a scrap of familiar-looking wreckage, a distress signal, a body, anything. Absolutely no sign of Luke had been uncovered, though numerous sightings of TIE fighters and the occasional overheard Imperial transmission indicated they were not alone in their search.

"Oh, I don't like the look of that," whimpered Threepio as a clump of mangled metal floated past a viewport.

"It's just a burnt-out satellite, Threepio," Leia told the droid.

She kept her eyes on the viewport, searching. In her heart she felt her dearest friend was still alive, but as each day went by without a trace of him her hopes were waning. At this point she would be happy if they found a body, that they might give him a proper burial and receive some closure. It was almost beyond reason to think they might find him alive.

"Planet three," Han announced, bringing the Falcon around for a look at the gleaming blue globe. "Atmospheric readings excellent for sustaining life. I'm getting plenty of technology readings too. If the kid's here, we'll have a hard time finding his distress call with all the activity."

Leia smiled sadly. Han was still holding out hope. He and Luke had always been close, even when they had been sparring over her. A smuggler and a Jedi -- who would have thought those two would be friends? Then again, who would have thought a smuggler and a senator-turned-rebel-leader would be romantically involved?

Chewie growled.

"Yeah, I see it." Han hurriedly threw a switch to heighten the shields. "Stardestroyer in orbit around the planet. Keep a low profile."

Leia strained, but she couldn't see a Stardestroyer anywhere. "Han, I think you should let me have a turn at the controls so you can get some sleep."

"I don't think so," Han replied. "No one flies the Falcon but me and Chewie."

"You weren't so hesitant to let Lando fly her."

"That was different. He needed a fast ship to attack the Death Star, and she was the fastest ship available."

Chewie barked.

"And that was different too. There was money involved."

"All the same," Leia countered, "you're exhausted. You're seeing things."

"Am not!"

"Han, there is no Stardestroyer..."

"That's because it's cloaked," Han defended. "But it shows up on the sensors." He tapped a screen, where a scarlet triangle indicated the presence of another ship in the area. "And from the size of it, I think it's Vader's hulk."

She arched an eyebrow. "This flying crate has that high-tech of a scope?"

"For your information, Princess, it's a low-tech scope from GalactiComp."

"GalactiComp? They went out of business seven years ago."

"Yeah, and that works to our advantage right now. The Empire's cloaking devices are meant to fool the eyes and newer technology. But GalactiComp equipment picks up cloaked Imperial ships just fine."

She smiled. "For once it pays to fly a piece of junk."

"Ha ha ha. Funny, your Highness."

The Falcon dipped closer to the planet, Han being careful to avoid the larger pieces of the plentiful space garbage that surrounded it. This was the kind of flotsam and jetsam that marked a world just beginning to develop a reliable method of space travel. All the detritus made it all the easier for the Falcon to avoid detection.

Over the comm they could hear the myriad conversations of the Imperials as they, too, combed the system.

"Unidentified instrument on my scopes, sir. Permission to investigate."

"Permission denied. It's an orbiting telescope. Probably belongs to this world."

"There's an awful lot of wreckage in my quadrant, sir. It appears to be a starship. Permission to check out."

"Permission granted."

"Copy, sir." A moment's pause. "Alderaanian light space yacht, sir, about twenty or thirty years old. Looks to have gotten a satellite jammed in its engines."

"Sir, shouldn't we search the planet? It's possible Lord Vader and the Rebel..."

"Piett's orders were to stay away from the planet. Carry on, pilot."

"Nothing in this quadrant but junk, sir."

Han listened to the banter thoughtfully. Then a wide grin spread across his face. "I know where the kid is," he announced.

Leia glanced up, startled at the certainty in his voice.

"They haven't searched the planet. So that's where he'll be. Most people are scared to go near the planet, but he's gutsy enough to try it. I'll bet if we land..."

"Han!" Leia protested. "They're scared for good reason. Ships have gone into this system and disappeared."

"Just like Luke." Han pushed the Falcon into a dive, selecting a point on the planet's surface more or less at random. "That looks like a nice landing site."

His choice of landing areas couldn't have been anything short of miraculous. For as the Falcon began to settle in a large meadow in a thick forest, she thought she saw a glint of light off durasteel plating.

"Han!" she cried. "Over in the meadow! Fifty meters east!"

"Yeah, I saw it. Chewie, hit the ramp!"

It was night on this part of the planet, and the songs of insects and night creatures filled the woods. The scenery was so much like the forests of Endor, Leia thought. But there was no time to admire the landscape. She, Han, and Chewie bolted through the trees, Threepio lagging behind and fussing the whole way.

Luke's X-wing sat in the next clearing over, and Han and Leia embraced each other with ecstatic cheers.

"He's here!" Leia exclaimed. "And he landed safely!"

Han laughed heartily -- until something made his grin fade away.

Behind the X-wing sat two other ships -- a crook-winged TIE fighter and the Slave.

Leia shook her head. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too," Han agreed. "At least none of them look like they were shot down. And from the look of it, they've been deserted for awhile now." He spat and kicked the side of the Slave. "Boba Fett! He just keeps coming back to life!"

"Oh dear," moaned Threepio. "Master Luke's been captured, hasn't he?"

"Well, I'm not letting them leave this rock with him in their claws," Han replied, hand on his blaster. "There's a path here. Maybe they went this way..."

Rustling vegetation signaled the approach of another. Han and Leia drew their blasters and Chewie his bowcaster as two figures strode briskly down the path Han had pointed out. One, a skinny young man with stringy white hair and beard, wore baggy tan pants and a short-sleeved blue shirt that read "The Gene Pool Could Use A Little Chlorine." The other, a tall and solidly built woman with close-cropped brown hair, was garbed in mottled blue pants reinforced with metal studs and a pine-colored sweater. Neither carried weapons, and they didn't appear to be daunted by the sight of three armed Rebels.

The man raised a scrawny arm in greeting. "Yo!"

"Uh... yo," Han replied unsurely. "Ah... do you speak Basic?"

"Basic!" the man screeched. "What's Basic?"

"It's English, you dipwad," the woman snapped, popping him in the back of the head.

"I take it the answer's yes," Han said, lowering his pistol slightly.

"Welcome to Earth!" the man exclaimed, opening his arms in welcome. "Third rock from the sun! I'm Zachary Brown. Call me Zack."

"I'm Emily Snow," the woman greeted with a tolerant glance at her manic companion. "And welcome to our planet."

"Thank you, Emily," said Leia, letting diplomacy take over as she holstered her weapon. "I'm Leia Organa, and these are my companions..."

"Han Solo and Chewbacca," Emily finished. "We know."

Leia blinked, startled. "You do?"

"Sure!" Zack replied enthusiastically. "Luke's told us all about you..."

"Luke?" Leia repeated. Could it be?

"Luke!" Han cried. "Where is he? Is he hurt? How long has he..."

Emily cut him off with a gentle laugh. "Don't worry. He's all right. Come, we'll take you to him."

Leia had to force her feet to carry her forward. Luke was alive! She could hardly believe it. And he'd had the incredible luck to land on this system's one inhabited planet! These people had been so gracious to care for Luke. Whatever could they do to repay them?

They arrived at a road of pebbled gray ferrocrete painted with yellow lines. Parked on the shoulder of the road was a rusty yellow wheeled vehicle, its engine growling as it idled. Behind the controls sat a black-haired woman with pants similar to Emily's and a snug-fitting white shirt that read "Don't Piss Me Off -- I'm Running Out Of Places To Hide The Bodies."

"Hop in!" she shouted. "You'll have to squeeze. My name's Amethyst Andrews."

"That's a beautiful name," Leia commented as she entered the ground car.

"Thanks." She blushed. "Sorry it's so cramped."

It was a bit crowded, what with the three Earth humans in the front seat and the four others in the back. But Leia was so excited about seeing Luke again that she hardly noticed her discomfort.

"Oh, it will be so good to see Master Luke again," said Threepio in an enthusiastic voice, something rare for the droid.

"I'll bet Luke's been talking your ears off about his adventures," said Han.

Zack tugged at his earlobe experimentally. "Nope. Still on good and tight."

"He's quite a man," Emily noted.

"And a helluva football player," Amethyst added. "Played against him and whoo-ee! He's good for a first-timer! If he hadn't knocked skulls with Vader and had to quit we'd have never won..."

At that comment, Leia's blood ran cold. In her zeal to see Luke again she had forgotten entirely that Vader, too, was on Earth.

"Vader!" shrieked Threepio.

Chewie bellowed in anger.

"Vader," snarled Han. "You oughta shoot that scum..."

"No way, man!" Zack protested. "He rocks! Besides, he owes me money!"

"Zack," she told him seriously, "Lord Darth Vader is a very dangerous man. You have no idea what sort of crimes he's..."

"Princess," Emily interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. "We're aware of this. But it's not as bad as you think. We'll explain during the drive."


	19. Skywalker Family Reunion

Part XIX -- Skywalker Family Reunion  
  
The summer-night chill had long driven everyone inside by the time Han and Leia arrived. Liberty lay on the couch, recuperating from her performance, and the others chatted idly as they waited for Zack, Emily, and Amethyst to return from picking the Alliance leaders up. Upon their arrival everyone broke into applause.  
  
Well, almost everyone. Fett stood in a corner of the living room, stroking his blaster, evidently not sure about these latest visitors. Vader sat in the chair closest to the couch and was in the process of reading a "Curious George" book to a half-asleep Rachel. He closed the book and waited as Luke embraced his friends.  
  
"Luke!" sobbed Leia, clutching him tightly. "Trigger told us about your capture. We were so worried."  
  
"Don't keep scaring us like that, kid," chided Han, thumping his back soundly. "You look terrible," he noted, taking in Luke's worn jeans and "Hard Rock Cafe Las Vegas" T-shirt.  
  
"It's great to see you all again," Luke replied, grunting as Chewie squeezed him in a bear hug.  
  
Vader spotted Threepio at the heels of the pack and enjoyed a private smile. His childhood creation had survived -- and somehow found his way into the hands of his children. How was that for irony?  
  
It wouldn't be long now, however, before the joy was shattered. Sooner or later one of them would see him and demand an explanation. He was not looking forward to that moment.  
  
Han saw Fett first, and with a startled shout his blaster arm came up. Fett snapped his own weapon in Han's direction, but before either of them could squeeze off a round Patrick leaped between them.  
  
"Don't shoot!" he cried.  
  
"There's a moratorium on using weapons in this house!" Jason added, pointing at the slash in the ceiling.  
  
Leia's eyes went wide as she stared at the hole. "That's horrible!"  
  
"You think that's bad, you should see the bathroom," Trapper quipped.  
  
"How did that happen?" asked Han, referring to the lightsaber scar.  
  
"It's a long story," said Steve.  
  
"None of you seem particularly surprised to see us," Leia noted.  
  
Jason laughed. "Lady, we've had blaster shots go through mirrors, lightsabers go through ceilings, and for the past three weeks we've had a bounty hunter sleeping in the downstairs bathtub. Not much surprises us anymore."  
  
Leia made eye contact with Vader, and her expression became one of steel. He held her gaze calmly. He only hoped she would listen when he apologized to her. The former Senator was a woman of strong emotions. As she approached him, knuckles whitening as she clenched her fingers around her blaster, he opened his mouth to greet her.  
  
Then something inexplicably hit him -- Padme!  
  
He'd seen those rich brown eyes before. He knew that resolute expression, that air of dignified authority, that visage that was beautiful without being delicate. It would have taken his breath away were he not on a respirator. Could the princess be a relative of his late wife's? It was a long shot, but most certainly not improbable.  
  
That startling connection only delayed him a moment. "Good evening, your Highness."  
  
She nodded, somewhat surprised at his cordiality but quickly recovering. "Good evening, Lord Vader." Her gaze moved to Liberty. "Is this your wife?"  
  
Liberty cracked up. Leia stared at her, confused, and that only made her laugh even more hysterically.  
  
"No, she is not," Vader replied. Why did Liberty have to be wearing her Lady Vader costume right now?  
  
"We're here for Luke," Leia went on. "If you relinquish your captive, we will go peacefully. If you will not turn him over... we may not be able to defeat you in a fight, but we certainly won't make it easy for you."  
  
Vader chuckled amusedly. "Luke is not my captive, Princess, merely a prisoner of this world and its limitations." He spread his hands. "If you want him, he is yours."  
  
She stared at him, stunned. "Is this a joke?"  
  
"Not at all. He is free to go. Upon one condition."  
  
"There had to be," she murmured coldly.  
  
He reached within his robes and withdrew a sealed datadisk. "You will deliver this to Mon Mothma. You will not tamper with it under any circumstances. Only Mothma may view its contents. Agreed?"  
  
"That isn't too much to ask," Leia conceded reluctantly.  
  
"Come on, Leia!" Darcy exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "Do you two, like, have to be so uptight about this? Can't you at least pretend to be friendly? I mean, Leia, at least act excited that you've finally seen your brother again..."  
  
/Brother!/ Vader felt his jaw muscles go slack with shock.  
  
Leia's face went as white as her Alderaani dress while Luke held his head in his hands. Han gaped, and Chewie barked a confused inquiry. Fett muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "How many kids do you HAVE, Vader?"  
  
Everyone else turned on the speaker.  
  
"DARCY!"  
  
She froze in mid-sentence, a sheepish look on her face. "Oops."  
  
***  
  
"And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?" Leia demanded of Luke.  
  
He threw up his hands in protest. "I didn't know until Yoda told me right after we left Tatooine. And after that I was... well... occupied."  
  
The Skywalkers had been granted some privacy in Patrick's bedroom to discuss their blood relations. Liberty and Austin were present to act as mediators. And Austin was heartily glad they were there, for Leia was on the verge of an explosion.  
  
"This feels like a bad episode of 'Jerry Springer,'" Liberty commented.  
  
"And the worst is yet to come," Austin muttered.  
  
"Worst?" Leia repeated, giving him a bewildered look. "What do you mean worst?"  
  
"On Cloud City, I learned who my father was," Luke replied quietly. "Our father."  
  
"Your father... our father, I suppose... was Anakin Skywalker," Leia said. "You told me. Mon Mothma said he was a Jedi who disappeared during the Purges, presumed dead."  
  
"Mon Mothma is in error," Vader corrected. "Anakin Skywalker was seduced by the dark side of the Force."  
  
Leia stared. Luke swallowed nervously. Liberty clutched Austin's hand. Austin cringed. /Here it comes, he thought./  
  
"I am... I was Anakin Skywalker," Vader went on. "I am your father, Leia."  
  
All eyes were on Leia, anticipating her reaction. She could only stare, a shocked expression on her face. Austin wasn't sure if she was going to attack Vader or start screaming or both. He hoped the room was soundproof.  
  
He hadn't expected her reaction -- she held her face in her hands and started crying.  
  
"Leia..." Luke began worriedly, extending an arm.  
  
"I knew..." she sobbed. "I knew you were my brother... somehow I always knew. But... I knew I was adopted... but I never imagined... I could be the daughter of... of..."  
  
"Of a fallen Jedi," Vader finished. "Believe me, Leia, I am deeply sorry for the pain I have put my children through. I wish dearly that I could have been there for you both when you were children."  
  
She shook with her sobs, and Luke cradled her gently in his arms.  
  
"I know this is hard for you all to accept," Liberty said gently. "But you're a family, like it or not. And it's going to take time and effort to heal your wounds."  
  
Leia looked up at Vader, eyes red and wet. "Did you know?"  
  
"I learned Luke was my son when our information sources uncovered the name of the pilot who destroyed the first Death Star," Vader replied. "I did not know he had a twin sister until Darcy dropped the bombshell."  
  
Austin handed Leia a box of tissues from the nightstand, which she accepted gratefully. "Vader... or Father..." she fumbled. "Which should I call you?"  
  
"Whatever you feel comfortable calling me," he replied quietly.  
  
"F-father," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "I... I wish you could tell me why... why..." She couldn't go on.  
  
He stared at the space between his feet. "I turned to the dark side out of hatred, arrogance, and fear," he replied. "Hatred toward the Jedi for the death of my mother, which I felt I could have prevented if it weren't for them. Arrogance borne of being known as the Chosen One throughout my Apprenticeship. Fear that the Jedi would discover my illicit marriage to your mother and seek to end it." His shoulders slumped. "In the end it was I who destroyed your mother, as well as my friend and mentor Obi-wan and all else within my reach. I felt my pain gave me vindication in what I did. Recently, however, I have come to realize that I have only myself to blame for my fall. I must face the consequences of my actions and atone for what I have done." He looked up. "Leia, my daughter, will you forgive me?"  
  
She gave the slightest of nods. "Tell me about Mother sometime."  
  
"I will," he vowed. "You are so like her."  
  
Austin heaved a sigh of relief. The expected fireworks had never occurred.  
  
"Well," Leia said, standing, "you haven't introduced me to your friends here, Luke."  
  
"Oops," said Luke with a guilty grin.  
  
"I'm Austin Powers," Austin volunteered, shaking Leia's hand. "This is my girlfriend Liberty King."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Leia greeted. "Thank you for watching over Luke for us."  
  
"Pleasure's all ours," Liberty answered. "Not a problem at all."  
  
Luke took Leia's hand. "I suppose we should be going now..."  
  
Leia placed a hand to his chest. "Let's stay awhile. I have questions." She shot Vader a knowing look. "And you haven't introduced me to the others."  
  
"We'll tell you all about the gang," Austin replied eagerly. "Then in the morning I think some explanations and another movie marathon are in order."  
  
***  
  
"Don't you guys have separate homes?" demanded Han.  
  
"Hey, it's Sunday!" protested Emily. "None of us have work! And we don't have anything better to do than hang here!"  
  
It was Sunday evening, time to settle down after a long day of viewing Star Wars movies and explaining the whole phenomenon to the newest interstellar visitors. Han and Leia had calmed down considerably around Vader, though they still kept a wary eye on him.  
  
"So it's agreed," Amethyst stated. "Leia rooms at my apartment, and Han, Chewie, and Threepio stay here at the Osmonds' with Fett."  
  
"Han and Fett?" inquired Cody. "I dunno..."  
  
"Hey, we'll make sure they keep their blasters to themselves," Jason promised.  
  
"We won't be staying long," Leia promised. "A week at most. Then we need to be off. The war against the Empire isn't over yet."  
  
"Stay two weeks," offered Austin. "You'll be able to meet the mastermind behind these movies, George Lucas. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to meet you."  
  
Leia nodded. "Two weeks it is. Sounds reasonable."  
  
"Great!" Trapper cheered. "Oh, and before you guys go I need autographs!"  
  
Austin chuckled. "Two more weeks, and then life finally goes back to normal."  
  
At that moment, Mike burst into the living room to show off his new outfit. "Hey everyone, look what I bought on e-Bay!"  
  
Everyone stared at him in disbelief. Then Steve turned to Austin with a resigned grin and asked "Austin, is there such thing as 'normal' in this town?"  
  
"Hey, isn't that Christina Aguilara's outfit from her music video 'Dirrrty?'" asked Zack. 


	20. The Chase

Part XX -- The Chase  
  
Back in the Falcon's landing meadow, a dark figure slunk toward the freighter, his armor gleaming in the morning light. The landing ramp groaned and lowered at a concentrating gesture from a black-gloved hand, and Vader entered the ship.  
  
Once on board, he activated the long-range transmission unit and recorded a brief message. At the conclusion of the recording he keyed a number into the unit, gave it his personal authorization code to get the transmission past the Imperial communications barrier, and utilized several of the Falcon's security measures. If the message was intercepted, these measures would prevent the hacker from tracing the transmission back to the sender or forward to the recipient.  
  
Finished at last, Vader shut the Falcon down and departed, closing the hatch behind him.  
  
Conrad waited by the highway next to his van. "Got the supplies from your TIE okay?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Vader replied. "Thank you for your services, Conrad."  
  
***  
  
Mara politely turned down the waitress' offer for "something more to go with your drink" and continued to listen to the three young men yakking their tongues apart. She grimaced as she sipped her drink. Earth's alcoholic beverages left something to be desired. Then again, so did the planet's inhabitants. She brushed off the leg of her pants. The girl who had previously worn this outfit -- black "Bad Religion" shirt, tight-fitting jeans, black studded belt, and wrist chrono -- would recover, but when she regained consciousness her clothes would be the least of her concerns. None insulted the Emperor's Hand and escaped unscathed. "Hopeless geek" indeed!  
  
"I'm tellin' ya, the party was weird!" one of the trio told his fellows. He wore a T-shirt with Darth Vader's visage on it. Odd how they knew of the Empire but still had such infantile technology. Perhaps this was the effects of the turbulence in the Force her master had described.  
  
"I go to the Elite's bash every year, right?" the young man continued. "One minute I'm in my Death Star gunner getup, doin' some disco, mindin' my own business, and the next -- POW!" He slammed both hands on the table to add emphasis. "Vader and some snowtrooper whip out lightsabers! And these weren't cheapo plastic dealies  
  
either -- these were the real McCoy!"  
  
Mara cocked her head, intrigued.  
  
"You're so full of bull, Justin," sneered the second. "'Specially when you're slammed."  
  
"It's true, Ricky!" insisted the third. "I saw 'em too, and I was sober!"  
  
Ricky snorted. "So some freaks put florescent paint on some sticks and stood next to a black light. What of it?"  
  
"There weren't any black lights there!" exclaimed Justin. "Ethan and I were right there, man! You could smell the ozone! You could hear that weird saber buzz! Those were real, man!"  
  
"Don't believe it," Ricky humphed. "I'm as obsessed as the next guy, but I'm not THAT out of the loop."  
  
"Believe it," Ethan replied. "My old boss, Miss King, she was there. Ask her. I'll bet she'll tell you."  
  
"Liberty's a member of the Elite," Ricky shot back. "They're all weirdos."  
  
Mara downed the rest of her drink, left a pile of Earth cash for the waitress, and walked out of the Leapfrog. So Vader was somewhere in this city. He wouldn't be too hard to find. She wasn't as strong in the Force as he, but she could still sense and track him. Now to secure a few vehicles for herself and her accompanying troops.  
  
***  
  
  
  
"We've been down this road before!" insisted Cody.  
  
"Have not!" countered Amethyst from the driver's seat.  
  
"Have too! We've passed that Chinese restaurant three times now!"  
  
"There are dozens of Chinese restaurants in Denver," she retorted, braking for a red light.  
  
"Yeah, but how many have dragons on their signs?"  
  
"Pritnear all of them. It's practically a law. If you open a Chinese restaurant in America, you're required to put a Chinese dragon on your sign."  
  
"Face it, Maria von Trapp, we're lost," grumped Cody.  
  
"You can get out and walk home, Jar Jar," Amethyst snapped.  
  
"Exactly where are we going?" inquired Leia.  
  
"There's a guy here in Denver who's a self-published author," she explained. "Liberty purchased about a hundred of his books last night on eBay, and I'm picking them up for her so she can sell them in her store. She figures if she sells books the big chain stores don't, sales may go up." She turned down a side street. "If I can find his apartment. The directions he gave us are worthless."  
  
Amethyst, Cody, and Vader were squeezed in the front seat of Amethyst's Chevy Citation, and Luke, Leia, and Mike were crammed in the back. While Amethyst had taken the two-hour trip to Denver to help Liberty, the others simply wanted a look at Colorado's biggest city. So far they had seen plenty of it.  
  
"Perhaps if I took a turn at the wheel..." Vader offered.  
  
"Not this time, Vader," Amethyst replied. She shot Mike a look in the rearview mirror. "Mike, no matter how many times you push the lock mechanism, it'll go up and down the same way."  
  
He pulled his hand away. "Sorry."  
  
Leia gave Luke a smirk. "So these are your new friends?"  
  
He shrugged. "After awhile, you get used to their idiosynchracies."  
  
She gave him a gentle shove. "I missed you, Luke."  
  
"Missed you too," he replied, giving a playful push back.  
  
"Hey!" she protested, pushing him again. Naturally he retaliated, and soon the two were engaged in a slapping match, giggling all the while.  
  
"Don't make me go back there and sit between you two," Vader threatened.  
  
"She started it!" cried Luke. "Ow!"  
  
"I don't care who started it!" Vader replied. "I'll finish it!"  
  
Mike peered out the back windshield. "Hey, is Liberty coming too?"  
  
"Do you see her in the car?" demanded Cody. "Neither do I, so she must not be. Sometimes, Mikey, I think you're a few TIEs short of a fleet." He turned back to the front, but after a moment he craned his neck to look at Mike again. "Out of simple curiosity, why do you ask?"  
  
He pointed at the rear windshield. "That looks like her car."  
  
Amethyst took a peek at her rearview mirror, briefly studying the silver vehicle. "That's the right color, Mike, but the wrong make. Liberty drives a PT Cruiser. That's a Dodge Caravan. And Liberty doesn't have that bright red of hair."  
  
At the mention of red hair Vader whirled. He went instantly stiff at the sight of the vehicle.  
  
"That's Mara Jade, the Emperor's Hand," he said in disbelief.  
  
"Who?" Leia asked. "I've never heard of an Emperor's Hand."  
  
"I'd be surprised if you had," Vader replied. "She's a Force-sensitive assassin utilized by the Emperor for accomplishing his dirty work."  
  
"And she's one of the butt-kickin'-est women in the Star Wars books!" gushed Cody. "Pull over so I can get her autograph!"  
  
"How long has she been following us?" wondered Luke.  
  
"I first saw her when we got off the freeway," volunteered Mike.  
  
Vader swore loudly and pointed to an alley. "Turn there. We'll try to lose her. Why the stang didn't I sense her trailing us?"  
  
"Why is she here anyway?" asked Leia as their car swerved into the narrow street.  
  
"No doubt for me," Vader replied. "I've been absent for too long. The Emperor has sent her to retrieve me."  
  
"Then pull over!" shouted Cody. "That's your ticket home!"  
  
"It's not as simple as that," Vader said gravely.  
  
"What do you mean?" demanded Luke.  
  
Amethyst exited the alley, and the Citation emerged in downtown Denver. Mara's Caravan was still on their tail. She wove her vehicle through traffic, earning a few car-horn protests and raised fingers, but she couldn't shake their pursuer. If anything, the Caravan only closed the gap between their bumpers.  
  
"I can't get this bitch off my butt!" Amethyst hissed, making a tight left turn and running a red light in the process. "If we don't wreck first, I'm gonna run out of gas, and then what do we do?"  
  
"She won't kill us, will she?" whimpered Mike.  
  
"She's an assassin, blockhead!" Cody replied. "That's what assassins do!"  
  
"If she catches us, Luke and Leia will die," Vader replied soberly. "And quite possibly the rest of you, as you are witnesses."  
  
"What about you?" asked Amethyst.  
  
"Just drive," Vader said shortly.  
  
On impulse Amethyst swerved into the left lane, playing chicken with a UPS truck. Just as the driver laid on his horn she returned to the correct lane, and the squeal of brakes indicated Mara had narrowly avoided a head-on collision. Incredibly, she stayed on their bumper. Even worse, as they swept past a bar two more cars -- a blue Datsun pickup and a bronze Acura Legend -- pulled out of the establishment's parking lot and joined in the chase.  
  
"She's got stormies helping her out!" Cody shrieked. "How'd they learn to drive so fast?"  
  
"Stormtroopers are genetically altered to learn how to operate vehicles in an extremely short amount of time," Leia replied. "And I'm sure it doesn't take much to hotwire one of these cars."  
  
"Don't diss our technology, Princess," Amethyst shot back. "Hang on tight. I'm gonna see if we can't shake them here." She aimed the car at a road repair site.  
  
"Are you crazy?" Cody exclaimed. "Traffic fines are double in a construction zone!"  
  
"I think I'd rather live to pay the fine, Cody," Amethyst retorted.  
  
The Citation barreled through a "Detour" barrier, scattering shattered wood across the hard-packed dirt. Workers in hard hats and orange vests leaped for safety as the car rocketed around machinery and safety cones, knocking over quite a few of the latter. One man waved his hand-held stop sign furiously and stood right in their path. Amethyst pumped her horn, and at the last possible moment the worker sprang out of her way. Mara was right behind, though she had dropped back to avoid the Citation's dust trail. The Datsun and Acura followed, the Datsun with a starburst crack in its windshield where a piece of the sign had struck it.  
  
"No luck," Amethyst noted.  
  
"We need a plan!" Luke cried. "We have to come up with something!"  
  
"Got any suggestions?" demanded Cody.  
  
Amethyst pulled into a parking garage whose toll gate was, by some miracle, out of order at the moment. Only a ribbon of yellow "Do Not Enter" tape blocked off the entrance, and this the car easily broke through. Strangely enough, their pursuers did not enter after them. Instead, all three vehicles parked at the entrance, and their drivers watched as the Citation disappeared into the building.  
  
Amethyst found a parking place on the ground floor and cut the engine. "This is bad."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Mike protested. "She didn't follow us."  
  
"She didn't need to. This garage has only one way in or out. We have to come out sometime, and when we do..." She drew a finger across her throat.  
  
No one spoke for a moment. The seriousness of their situation was sinking in. There was no sugar-coating the predicament -- if they didn't find a way to outrun, outgun, or outwit the Emperor's Hand, they were dead.  
  
"Never thought it would end this way," sobbed Mike.  
  
"Oh, quit sniveling," Vader hissed.  
  
"What I want to know is why you seem so reluctant to confront her," Leia said. "You both work for the Emperor. You're on the same side."  
  
"You're wrong," Vader replied.  
  
She blinked, surprised.  
  
"This morning," he went on, "I went to the Millennium Falcon. I used its long-distance transmitter to send a message to Mon Mothma." He hesitated, then pushed onward. "I sent her a request to join the Alliance."  
  
Luke smiled in quiet triumph while the others just gawked.  
  
"You WHAT?!" Leia exclaimed.  
  
Cody laughed hysterically and slapped the dashboard. "I never saw this one coming! I've been thrown for a loop lots of times, but this takes the cake!"  
  
"It ain't hard to throw you for a loop," Amethyst quipped.  
  
"Shut up, Mary Poppins."  
  
"But -- you're a Sith," Mike pointed out.  
  
"And your point is...?" Luke asked.  
  
"Well -- he -- he killed the Jedi -- and lots of other stuff," Mike stammered.  
  
"Mike's right," Amethyst said. "He's the Rebellion's biggest enemy, the Emperor notwithstanding. Will they really just up and let him join?"  
  
"Yes," Luke said firmly. "It has long been the Alliance's policy to allow all who truly wish to join us do so. Mothma decided long ago that any Imperial that wanted to defect to the Alliance could, be they a stormtrooper, technician, or even a Grand Admiral, so long as it could be proved that they weren't acting as double-agents or spies. We're an organization that makes no discriminations against a race, gender, religion, or past affiliation. To deny Vader a place among us would be to destroy all we have worked so hard to build."  
  
"Are you sure about that?" asked Amethyst. "What if they refuse him?"  
  
"Then I'll fight to ensure there is a place for him among us," Leia replied sternly.  
  
Vader turned to regard Leia. "I thought you would hate me, Leia, for all I have done to you and your friends. I'm glad that is no longer the case."  
  
"I hate Darth Vader," Leia answered. "Always have, always will. But I don't hate my father."  
  
He nodded again, obviously pleased.  
  
"This is all very touching," Cody noted, "and I hate to end it, but Vader joining the Rebellion ain't gonna mean squat if he's a corpse by the time Mothma gets the message."  
  
"We need a quick getaway driver," Luke announced.  
  
"Someone used to driving at high speeds and making decisions under pressure," Leia added.  
  
"Who here can do that?" asked Mike.  
  
Amethyst smirked. "You really are dense, Mike. Don't you pay attention when we watch Episode I?"  
  
***  
  
The Force smiled upon Mara Jade. Minutes after hotwiring several cars and beginning a search of Star City, she had sensed Vader and Skywalker departing the city in another vehicle. Now, after three hours of following the Citation, she had her quarry trapped. She gave a dark smile. Skywalker would die, and Vader would answer to the Emperor for his unauthorized absence.  
  
"Hand to Executor, objective nearly completed. Prepare a shuttle. I'll signal when I have them, then you may send the transport."  
  
She keyed off the comm and exited the vehicle, striding casually to a spot not far from the building and facing what she knew to be the exact location of Vader and his companions. Aside from her assigned targets, there were four others. Too bad they had the misfortune to run into Vader and Skywalker. They would not leave her sight alive.  
  
From the wall of the parking garage came an explosion of concrete. She threw up a shield of the Force but stayed her ground as chunks of stone pelted her and her troops. A particularly large fragment crashed through the windshield of the Acura, killing the trooper inside. No great loss, she had others...  
  
Too late she sensed the cause of the explosion -- Vader had used the Force to blast the hole as an escape route. The yellow vehicle shot through the opening and barreled toward her, going way too fast for her to possibly dodge it.  
  
She had time for one last thought -- a particularly nasty and unrepeatable thought regarding Vader's mother -- before impact.  
  
***  
  
  
  
If anyone inside the car could have seen Vader's face through his mask, they would have been terrified by his grin of rapture.  
  
Then again, they were pretty terrified anyhow.  
  
"One hundred and twenty miles an hour?" Vader repeated, taking a glance at the speedometer. "That's the fastest this thing can go? Ha! I grew up driving podracers! Those can hit six hundred..."  
  
"Whatever man, just keep your freakin' eyes on the road!" Amethyst shouted.  
  
The Citation tore through the streets at upward of one hundred miles an hour, whipping past slower traffic and disregarding such trivial matters as traffic signals. The Datsun followed, joined by a violet Plymouth Prowler, a white Ford Taurus, and a red Mitsubishi Eclipse.  
  
"Where's Mara and the man in the bronze car?" demanded Luke.  
  
"Vader ran over Mara, remember?" Cody replied. "As for the Acura, who cares as long as he's off our bumper?" He gave a loud sob. "Why'd she have to die? She was supposed to marry ya, Luke!"  
  
"Me marry Mara Jade?" Luke gaped.  
  
"Who gives a crap about the books right now, Cody?" snapped Amethyst.  
  
Vader cranked the steering wheel, and he turned a corner so sharply the Citation went up on its two right wheels before coming back down on all four. The driver of the Eclipse lost control and flipped, landing the car on its top with its front end buried in the front window of a bank.   
  
"That looks nasty," noted Mike, peering back at the mess.  
  
"How many cronies has Mara got?" asked Cody.  
  
"She always takes five troopers with her on strikes," Vader replied. "The drivers of the Acura and the red car are dead. That leaves these three to eliminate."  
  
"And they're gaining on us!" squealed Mike.  
  
"Calm down!" Leia ordered.  
  
Vader whipped around another corner, expertly maneuvering the car to avoid oncoming traffic -- of which there was a lot.  
  
"This is only a test," said Cody. "For the next sixty seconds we will be conducting a test of our Emergency Broadcast system. If this were an actual emergency, we would NOT be going ONE HUNDRED PLUS miles an hour the WRONG way down a ONE-WAY STREET!"  
  
The Citation lurched onto the sidewalk as Vader swerved to avoid a taxi, and before he could get back on the road the vehicle smashed into a newspaper rack. Copies of "USA Today" and the "Denver Tribune" fluttered through the air like birds. The driver of a green Volkswagon, spooked by the explosion of paper, sent his car into a spin and slammed into the back of the Taurus. The white car somehow managed to keep going in a straight line.  
  
"Um, guys?" Mike squeaked.  
  
"Not now, Mike!" Luke ordered. All eyes were on their pursuers.  
  
"I'm not that smart, I admit..." he went on.  
  
"We know," Cody replied.  
  
"But maybe we'd better worry less about those guys and more about the train."  
  
Four heads whipped around to see a railroad crossing ahead -- with a train in the process of going over the tracks.  
  
No one knew who started screaming first, but soon everyone in the car was shrieking in fear -- except Vader, who only floored the gas pedal.  
  
"What are you doing?!" howled Amethyst.  
  
"Trust me!" he replied.  
  
A nearby theater had taken down their marquee board for repairs, and one end was propped up on cinder blocks to allow workers access to its wiring. As if pulled by an invisible rope the sign slid into the road, right in their path. The Citation streaked up the impromptu ramp and went airborne, clearing the train by such a narrow margin that the tires skimmed the top of the railroad car. With the aid of the Force Vader landed the car,  
  
jouncing everyone around but preventing any injuries to the occupants. The car was a loss, though.  
  
"There goes my suspension!" cried Amethyst.  
  
"Oh pipe down, at least we're alive," Luke snapped.  
  
The stormtroopers weren't so lucky. Twin explosions sounded as the Prowler and Taurus smashed into the side of the train. The Datsun barreled up the ramp and soared through the air, landing on its front bumper and somersaulting down the street before coming to rest on its hood.  
  
Everyone took a moment to catch their breath. Then Amethyst flung open the door and scrambled out of the car, whimpering over the damage inflicted on her Citation. From the looks of it, the vehicle had been damaged beyond repair.  
  
"I say from now on, Liberty picks up her own books," Leia suggested.  
  
Vader laughed. "As luck would have it, this is the street we were looking for. We can still get what we came for." He popped open his door. "I hope someone has money for the bus back to Star City." 


	21. Trapper's Mom Strikes Back

Chapter XXI - Trappers' Mom Strikes Back  
  
Another week sped by.   
  
Leia still couldn't believe she was actually on peaceful terms with Darth Vader. It seemed almost surreal for her to be talking with him, discussing her mother, laughing over his escapades with the Elite. And the fact that the people of Earth knew so much about the Galactic Civil War without being involved in it only added to the bizarreness of this odd event.   
  
She felt almost guilty being here when the Alliance still had a war to fight. Part of her insisted that she shouldn't be on a family vacation, as it were. No, she should be out there doing something, bringing worlds to the Alliance, fighting the Empire. Yet didn't she deserve some time strictly for herself, time she almost never had? And when would she ever have another opportunity to learn more about her mother?   
  
"She was a crack shot with a blaster," Vader was saying as they both sat on the couch, watching Conrad and Zack play "Jedi Outcast." "Much like you are." He laughed softly. "You two are so similar, I don't know why I didn't make the connection earlier."   
  
"Because it was probably the last thing on your mind at the moment," Leia suggested.   
  
The front door slammed, and Brigham entered the living room waving around bulging grocery bags. "I'm back! And I got munchies!"   
  
"'Bout time," Cody mumbled from a chair, where he was reading a Jango Fett comic book. "What kind of munchies?"   
  
"Ambrosia of the gods," Brigham replied. "Ben and Jerry's, man! Ice cream! The single- serving cups were on major sale!"   
  
"Oh yum!" Cody squealed, dropping his book. "Got sugar-free?"   
  
"If you come help me pass 'em out, yes," Brigham said.   
  
Vader shook his head and turned his attention back to the personal hologram projector/recorder sitting on the coffee table. "I keep telling myself that there are beings just as crazy on other worlds, too."   
  
Leia laughed.   
  
"Who's that?" asked Emily, coming behind the couch to look at the holo.   
  
"That's my foster mother," Leia replied.   
  
"She's pretty," Emily noted as Vader flipped through the pictures. "And that's Bail Organa?"   
  
Leia nodded.   
  
"That next is your mother... hmmm... some Rebel general... Admiral Ackbar, the fishy looking guy... is that me?"   
  
"I took a few of you and the rest of the club yesterday," Leia explained.   
  
"Hmmm. The holo seems to add a few pounds, doesn't it? Ah, a revised family picture, I see." She pointed at the holo of Luke, Leia, Vader, Han, and Cody, who had slipped into the frame unnoticed and given Han "rabbit ears." "That nut Cody. He's a character. Never lets life get him down, even when his diabetes acts up."   
  
"I wish he wouldn't have kept asking me to smile for the camera," Vader complained.   
  
"He's of the opinion that if a joke is funny the first time, it must be funny every time," Emily explained.   
  
Austin staggered into the living room, yawning and looking pretty rumpled from his afternoon nap.   
  
"Stay right there!" Emily ordered. "Vader, snap a pic of him for blackmail purposes!"   
  
Austin glared at her and told her quite eloquently just where she could shove that holo- projector.   
  
"You're in a delightful mood this morning," Leia noted sarcastically.   
  
"Five days," Austin lamented, flopping into the second chair. "Five days 'til I have to fly Trapper back to Chicago. I'm not looking forward to it in the least."   
  
"Then enjoy the time you've got left with him and quit whining like a Tatooine farmboy," Brigham advised, handing him a container. "Cherry Garcias?"   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"Here you two, try some Earth dessert," Brigham offered, giving Leia and Vader cups. "Ben and Jerry's Fudge Brownie ice cream. Good stuff. Just don't eat it too fast or it'll give you a nasty headache."   
  
"Can someone please pass out spoons, too?" demanded Liz from the kitchen, where she was teaching Threepio the basics of Hebrew. Luke and Han were there too, watching Liberty and Diana play chess.   
  
"I'm coming to the rescue!" Cody shouted, thrusting a spoon at Leia. "Blue Rajah, master of cutlery!"   
  
"You need to watch 'Mystery Men' again, Code-man," Emily replied, dipping into her container. "Blue Rajah threw forks, not spoons. Mmm, nothing like Half-Baked. Best kind this company makes."   
  
"Actually, Chunky Monkey is the best," Brigham retorted.   
  
Leia tentatively sampled the creamy, half-frozen material. It was surprisingly good.   
  
"MMMPPHH!" Han grunted, dropping his spoon and clapping both hands to his forehead. "MMMMMRRRGGGHHH!"   
  
"Han got brain freeze!" shouted Trapper from under the kitchen table, where he was playing with his action figures again.   
  
Emily shook her head. "Men. They can be so thick at times."   
  
"Perhaps that's why there are so few cases of female Jedi turning to the dark side in the Sith archives," Vader mused. "Women have the sense to avoid making stupid mistakes."   
  
"Everyone makes mistakes," Leia countered. "Some just have more impact than others."   
  
"Much more," Vader replied. He called up a holo of Padme and studied it a long time. "I have often wondered why Jedi were forbidden from experiencing love."   
  
"Perhaps a Jedi just needed to concentrate on his duties," Leia theorized.   
  
"Or maybe it's one of those vow-of-chastity things that some religions have," Emily suggested.   
  
Vader did not reply. He only stared, totally absorbed, at the holo as if memorizing the woman's features.   
  
"You loved her a lot, didn't you?" asked Emily.   
  
"From the moment I first saw her, so many years ago in the junk shop," Vader replied wistfully. "I still love her. I miss her sorely." He thumbed the projector off. "But I hurt her terribly. I abandoned her, left her to follow Palpatine on the path of the dark side."   
  
"Is there any case where a Jedi has ever turned to the dark side and come back?" asked Leia. She hoped the answer was yes.   
  
"If there is, I have never heard of it," Vader replied. "The ending of 'Return of the Jedi' was a romantic idea, but unlikely. When one serves evil for so long, a single act of heroism cannot redeem him."   
  
"I think it could," Leia defended, "if it were of great enough magnitude."   
  
Vader snorted skeptically, his mask warping the sound.   
  
"Don't blow her off, ironpants," Emily snapped.   
  
"Have you heard the tale of the phoenix?" asked Liberty, who had been quietly eavesdropping on the conversation.   
  
"Only about five hundred times," Austin teased. "You're always talking about how the phoenix and Vader are connected."   
  
"What's a phoenix?" asked Leia.   
  
"A beautiful creature of Earth mythology," Liberty replied. "It's a bird, often described as stunningly beautiful and somehow connected with the element of fire. It's described in Chinese and Greek myths as sacred and magical."   
  
"Get to the comparison part," urged Emily.   
  
"A phoenix can live for five hundred years," Liberty went on. "When it's time for it to die, it builds itself a nest of aromatic branches and bursts into flames. Then it is reborn from the ashes and begins a new life.   
  
"In a way, I suppose Vader is a sort of phoenix. According to Episode III heresay, Anakin Skywalker fell into a molten pit of some sort during a duel with Obi-wan. I guess you can say Anakin died by fire and was reborn from the ashes as Darth Vader. Maybe what's needed is some sort of cataclysm, some enormous event, to destroy Vader by fire and raise Anakin back from the ashes."   
  
"That's an amazing comparison," said Leia.   
  
"Get the matches and the lighter fluid!" Cody suggested.   
  
"You stay away from me, Cody," Vader threatened.   
  
***   
  
Someone was banging on the door, and Chewbacca wished someone would do something about it. But Wookie ears were more sensitive to sounds than human ears, and over the racket of the get-together no one else could hear it. He bellowed for someone to get the door, but no one understood. Both his translators were busy -- Han was engrossed in watching Liberty and Diana's chess game, and Threepio was taking lessons in Hebrew from Liz.   
  
With a weary sniff Chewie went to the front door and opened it.   
  
The petite woman looked him up and down and scowled in disgust.   
  
"Nice costume," she said without meaning it. "I need to talk to Austin. Where is he?"   
  
Chewie gestured inside and told her that Austin was in the living room and she was welcome to come in. Of course, the phrase was in Wookie, and she probably didn't understand him. He began to go in to fetch Han.   
  
The woman's piercing shriek interrupted him, and he turned to see her body slumping to the ground. Alarmed, he grabbed her before she could collapse fully and carried her inside.   
  
"All right, what was that?" demanded Diana. "I heard someone scream."   
  
"What the stang?" Luke demanded when he saw what Chewie was carrying.   
  
The Wookie remarked that if someone else had gotten the door, this wouldn't have happened.   
  
"Oh, calm down, hairball," Han replied.   
  
Vader and Leia hurriedly vacated the couch. Chewie laid her down carefully and stepped back as Vader inspected her.   
  
"Appears to be nothing more than shock," he noted at length, placing his hand over her forehead, fingertips to her temples.   
  
"Damn it, it's my ex!" Austin snarled, standing. "What's she doing here?"   
  
"So THAT'S the infamous Melissa Greenwood," Luke remarked. "Somehow I thought she'd be taller and have horns."   
  
"Trapper, what have you been telling him?" demanded Austin.   
  
"Nothing you haven't already said," Trapper shot back.   
  
"She's coming around!" Brigham shouted, as if it weren't obvious.   
  
Melissa moaned and raised her head a bit. "The weirdest dream..." Her voice trailed off as she saw Vader standing over her, his hand still on her head. With a terrified scream she scrambled onto the arm of the couch, trying to get as far from him as she could.   
  
"Whoa, Melissa!" Austin shouted, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay! He's not gonna hurt you!"   
  
"Wha... wha... what's going on? Where did he come from?"   
  
Austin rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."   
  
***   
  
Things had toned down for the evening, and most of the gang was in the kitchen and living room playing board games with each other. Luke and Austin sat in a spare bedroom, listening as Melissa left a message on someone's voice mail.   
  
"Hello? Dr. Brisban? This is Melissa Greenwood."   
  
Artoo wheeled up to her bearing a tray of iced drinks. She gratefully took a glass and sipped it to ease her nerves.   
  
"I think I need my dosage checked. At the moment I'm in Colorado with my ex-husband and Luke Skywalker while Artoo Detoo serves iced tea and my son plays with a Princess of Alderaan in the kitchen." She gave a high-pitched, hysterical laugh. "So are really, really realistic hallucinations a common side effect of that new stress medication you put me on? Thanks and call me back on my cell phone, please. I'm out of town."   
  
She put the phone back in her purse and gave a tight, nervous smile. "So... you're Luke Skywalker, I hear?"   
  
"Guilty," Luke replied.   
  
"And... how long have you been here?"   
  
"About three weeks."   
  
"Nice, very nice," she remarked distractedly. "Can I ask what you're doing here, or is that too pretentious?"   
  
"I'd like to know what you're doing here in Star City," Austin cut in. "Trapper didn't mention that you were planning to come here."   
  
"Why else?" she replied crisply. "I'm here to pick up Trapper."   
  
"Now wait a blaster-scorched minute," Austin protested. "You told me I needed to bring him home on the 19th."   
  
"No, I said I'd pick him up on the 14th."   
  
"You distinctly said the 19th, Melissa."   
  
"Can you prove it?"   
  
"Well, no, but..."   
  
"Exactly. Now that he's had his annual dose of Star Wars -- plus some with the alien invasion that seems to be going on -- it's time he came home."   
  
"You're in the presence of a Jedi and you're fighting with me over visitation?" Austin shook his head. "You're incredible, Melissa."   
  
"I'm not some mega-geek like you and your goofy friends," Melissa snapped. "Star Wars ruined my marriage, and I don't want to have anything further to do with it!"   
  
"Star Wars did not ruin your marriage," Luke replied. "It's a mindless entity. It doesn't do anything; it just is. It's what people think of it and do with it that helps or harms."   
  
Melissa scowled. "Okay, it's my husband's infatuation with Star Wars that ruined my marriage. And don't try to say it isn't," she barked as Austin opened his mouth to protest. "When we were married you were so obsessed with your precious fan club and geek column you didn't even know you had a son half the time!"   
  
"So your reasoning is that, since he didn't seem to care for Trapper before, he shouldn't be allowed to make up for his mistakes and try to be a father again?" asked Luke. "I think he's repentant. He wants to be a dad to Trapper again. So why prevent him from being a father when your son so desperately needs one?"   
  
Melissa stared, taken aback by Luke's scold.   
  
"I know what it's like to lose a father," Luke went on. "And now that he's back in my life, I don't want to lose him again. But Trapper is in danger of losing the most important male role model in his life, all because you want a little revenge against Austin. Please, Melissa, don't hurt Trapper just to try and hurt Austin."   
  
Melissa worked her mouth silently in an effort to speak.   
  
"So I suggest you go back to Chicago and come back on the 19th, like it was originally agreed. Leaving him here for a few more days won't hurt anyone."   
  
She grimaced. "That... sounds... reasonable," she mumbled. "But I'll be staying in Denver with family, and I'll pick him up evening of the 19th. No exceptions."   
  
"Mom!" Trapper cried, running down the stairs.   
  
"What is it, Trapper?" She was on her feet instantly.   
  
"It's horrible! I can't believe it!"   
  
"What do you mean?" asked Luke.   
  
"Leia beat me at Stratego!"   
  
Austin burst out laughing. "Someone finally whupped you at that game, eh?"   
  
Melissa couldn't help laughing too. "About time."   
  
"But Mo-om!" Trapper insisted. "This is bad! I -- was -- beat -- by -- a -- GIRL!"   
  
To a nine-year-old, this was serious business, and Trapper just couldn't understand why the adults were laughing so hysterically. 


	22. The Emperor's Letter

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you've read this story previously on the Luke/Vader Writers Website, you'll notice the chapter entitled "Talent Night" is missing. I decided it didn't contain enough pertinant information and so removed it.  
  
Chapter XXII - The Emperor's Letter  
  
"We'll miss you, Trapper!" Darcy said sadly, embracing him tightly.   
  
"Take care of yourself," Sparky told him, ruffling his hair.   
  
Once the Elite had all said goodbye to Trapper, Melissa took his hand and herded him toward the door. "I forget how wild you and your friends could be," she said with a gentle smile.   
  
Austin hugged his son tightly, though Trapper was half-asleep and barely returned the embrace. "Bye, Mini-V. See you Christmas." To Melissa he said "His things are in the rental car. Hope I didn't forget anything."   
  
"Don't worry about it," she replied. "This is his home, too."   
  
He looked sheepishly at his feet. "I really wish we could've worked things out, Melissa. I know I wasn't as good a husband as I could've been."   
  
"Austin, we're on opposite ends of the spectrum. I'm a workaholic, you're a Stargeek. I doubt we could have worked anything out."   
  
"True. But I did love you at one time."   
  
She ruffled Trapper's hair. "And I loved you at one time. And we both got something valuable out of our time together. We got our son."   
  
Austin gave a bittersweet smile. "Well, I won't hold you up anymore. Don't want you to miss your flight."   
  
"Goodbye. Don't forget to call."   
  
"I won't."   
  
As he watched Melissa and Trapper climb into their car and drive away, he felt his heart break a little more.   
  
***  
  
Vader snarled wordlessly as he pawed through Rachel's blankets for the fifth time, though he knew he wouldn't find her there. All the signs pointed to abduction -- the shattered window, the overturned bedside table, and most notably the fact that her precious Mori had been left behind in the scuffle. But part of him was unwilling to accept this. Part of him hoped she would poke her head out of a cubbyhole and reveal herself so he could take her to her parents for a well-deserved spanking.   
  
At last he abandoned the search and hurried toward Conrad and Diana's room. Not Rachel! Not now! Her parents couldn't afford to lose another child. And neither could he.   
  
Over the past month and a half he had grown to care for Rachel very deeply. In her he had been able to experience the joys of tending to a child, something he had missed in Luke and Leia. And though she was not his daughter, her disappearance tore cruelly at his heart.   
  
/Why didn't I sense the intruder?/ he wondered. For a moment he considered... but no. Of what use would an Earth child be to the Emperor? Then he reconsidered the idea. She was strong in the Force. She was young -- just under the acceptable age for trainees to be admitted into the old Jedi Order. Was the Emperor seeking another apprentice?   
  
The bedroom door was locked. He telekinetically unlocked it and flung it open. Conrad and Diana fumbled into sitting positions as he flicked on the light.   
  
"It's four in the morning," grumbled Conrad. "This had better be important."   
  
"Rachel has been kidnapped," Vader said bluntly.   
  
With those words, the nightmare began.   
  
***   
  
Austin groped for the bedside phone, squinting to make out the time on his alarm clock. Who on Earth would be calling him at four A.M.?   
  
"Hnnnngh?" he asked.   
  
"Is this Mr. Austin Powers?"   
  
"Mmm-hmm."   
  
"Mr. Powers, this is the Star City Police Department. We'd like you to come down to the station."   
  
It took his foggy brain a few minutes to process the information. "This isn't about the cop I cut off on Shale Avenue yesterday, is it?"   
  
"No sir, it regards your son."   
  
He shot out of bed, fully awake now. "Is he hurt? Was he in an accident?"   
  
"We don't know, sir. From what we can figure out, someone followed your ex-wife's car to within a mile of the Denver airport and shot out the left rear tire. She pulled over to fix it and was ambushed. She was beaten pretty badly and is in the hospital in critical condition at the moment."   
  
"Trapper! What about Trapper?!"   
  
"Your son, I'm afraid, was missing at the scene."   
  
Austin sagged to his knees with an inarticulate cry of anguish.   
  
"Mr. Powers? Are you all right?"   
  
"I'll be right down," he informed her.   
  
***   
  
The waitress wasn't particularly impressed by these customers' costumes, elaborate though they were. She'd lived in this town for twenty years and had seen more authentic- looking gear.   
  
If she had known she was serving the table of Mon Mothma and Admiral Piett, she probably still wouldn't have acted very excited.   
  
"Welcome to the Leapfrog Diner," she said flatly. "What'll it be?"   
  
Piett beamed at his table companion. "We'll have two of your daily specials. Is that all right, my love?" He winked flirtatiously at his companion.   
  
She giggled. "Whatever you say, dear. You know what I like."   
  
He chuckled fondly before turning to the waitress. "It's our anniversary today."   
  
"You guys came to the Leapfrog for your anniversary?!" an incredulous scouttrooper demanded from a nearby table.   
  
"Shut up," his clonetrooper table companion hissed. "You took your prom date here, Casanova."   
  
"Two specials," the waitress noted, jotting down the order. "To drink?"   
  
"Water," Mothma replied.   
  
"What do you recommend?" asked Piett.   
  
"The bartender makes a mean Screwdriver," the clonetrooper advised.   
  
"I'll have that," Piett replied, even though he had no idea what was in it.   
  
She retrieved their menus before heading for the kitchen.   
  
Mothma laughed. "I never thought I'd be allowing an Imperial to treat me to lunch," she said.   
  
"The problem will be paying for it," Piett replied. "I doubt this world takes Imperial credits."   
  
"Don't be so sure," she said, pointing at a gaggle of gold-bandoliered stormtroopers vacating a table. "Did you see those costumes? These people are puzzling. They know so much that they shouldn't know."   
  
"Yes," agreed Piett. "But at any rate, they're not our concern. We have other missions to accomplish."   
  
"Your drinks," the waitress announced dully, placing two glasses on the table. "Cheers."   
  
"Are you certain about this?" asked Mothma. "Simply because Vader wishes to join the Rebellion doesn't mean you must turn your coat too."   
  
"I follow Darth Vader," Piett said firmly. "He may be eccentric, yes, and even cruel, but he has a sense of honor. The same cannot be said of the Emperor." He took a long draught from his glass. "I have fifty men who have sworn the same as I, Mothma. We follow Vader, be he Rebel or Imperial."   
  
She sipped her own drink. I'm afraid Vader will not be a Rebel long. He is a criminal."   
  
"A criminal?"   
  
"Yes." Her eyes flashed. "Guilty of crimes against humanity. He killed over ten thousand Jedi Knights, Masters, and Padawans, virtually exterminating the Order. Well over three thousand of his victims were children." She let her comments sink in. "Once we find him, he is to be put on trial."   
  
He stared at her a moment, then nodded grimly. "I can understand the necessity of that, Mothma. But that does not change my mind. I am still joining the Alliance."   
  
"Welcome aboard, Piett."   
  
"Two catfish platters with French fries for the happy couple," their waitress said, setting a plate before each of them. "Happy anniversary and don't fight over the toilet seat issue." She departed.   
  
"So we must find Leia and Han," Piett mused, sampling a piece of fish. "How long have they been missing?"   
  
"Almost a month," Mothma replied. "Until I got Vader's message I feared they had been captured. I'm still not certain that he didn't harm them."   
  
"I might suggest..." began Piett.   
  
A stormtrooper approached the table, dropped a datapad in front of Piett, and left.   
  
"Who was that?" asked Mothma.   
  
"One of the fifty," replied Piett. "I told them to stay aboard the ship..." His voice trailed off as he read.   
  
"What is it?" she asked.   
  
"It's a message to Lord Vader," Piett replied. After a few minutes of tinkering with the datapad he sighed heavily. "It's password-locked. Apparently Vader will be able to open it. There is an attached message, however."   
  
"Care to share it?"   
  
He read. "'Piett, urgent. Emperor on Executor. Not pleased with your absence. Demands delivery of message to Vader. Suspicious amount of security. TK-382 reports seeing children in Imperial entourage. Haste recommended.'"   
  
"Children? Why would the Emperor have children with him?"   
  
"I don't know," Piett confessed. "But it's never happened before. I don't like the sound of it."   
  
Mothma stood and pushed her chair in. "Excuse me, Piett. I must visit the refresher. Keep that datapad safe. We'll have an Alliance technician try to crack the password." She departed.   
  
Piett pushed his plate aside, suddenly not hungry. What in the galaxy was going on?   
  
"You're not from around here, are you?"   
  
He jerked, then relaxed. It was only one of the many Vader impersonators he and Mothma had seen. This one casually sat in Mothma's chair and folded his arms, regarding Piett expectantly.   
  
"I'm... from out of town," Piett answered vaguely.   
  
"What I mean is, you're Admiral Piett," the false Vader corrected.   
  
He stared at the impostor blankly. "And if I was, what would it mean to you, sir?"   
  
"A lot, Admiral Piett." He extended an arm over the table. "Darth Polowski, Sith Warrior of the Sons of the Sith."   
  
Piett cautiously accepted the proffered hand. "You've got me. I'm Piett. Pleasure to meet you."   
  
"Pleasure's all ours," Polowski replied as two more men approached -- one in black clothing with a frightening red and black tattooed face and a crown of short horns, the other a boy barely into his teens in Jedi-esque attire, only black and trimmed in scarlet. "My comrades Darth Ramirez, Sith Master, and his pupil Darth Anderson, Sith Apprentice."   
  
"Good to meet you," Piett replied, nodding. "What do you want?"   
  
Polowski leaned forward slightly. "You seek Lord Darth Vader?"   
  
"Yes," he replied tentatively. "Why?"   
  
"We can take you to him," Ramirez said, an amused smile pricking the corners of his lips.   
  
"You can? I mean, you know where he is?"   
  
"Much has been going on in this town, Ramirez explained. "Most aren't aware of it, but the Sons of the Sith see no use in being complacent."   
  
"It's the signs of the times," added Anderson, wincing when his youthful voice broke. "It's surely our time..."   
  
"Anderson, did I give you permission to speak?" asked Ramirez mildly, arching an eyebrow.   
  
The boy gulped. "No, Master."   
  
"I will forgive you this time." To Piett he said "A good number of people saw Vader wielding a lightsaber over a month ago at a party. I didn't see it myself, and accounts vary, but we have reason to believe the story is true, and that Vader continues to reside at the site of the party -- the home of one Amelia Osmond, though she loans the home to her grandsons Jason and Patrick."   
  
"That's good news," Piett noted with considerable relief. "When Mothma gets back I'll inform her..."   
  
"Inform Mothma?" Polowski laughed. "She wants to hang Vader, from the conversation we overheard. By the time Vader's in her clutches and you've hacked into that message, those children -- whoever they are -- could be seriously harmed or even dead."   
  
"Yes -- but I'm a member of the Alliance now -- and I must obey..."   
  
"The note said 'haste recommended,'" Ramirez interrupted. "Not 'wait until Mothma deigns to read this' or 'if it fits into the Rebellion's schedule,' but 'haste recommended.' You can do a lot more good by following that note's suggestion and seeing Vader gets that message than by licking the soles of Mothma's pretty white boots."   
  
After a moment's indecision, Piett stood. "Take me to Vader."   
  
Polowski left a few Earth bills on the table to pay Piett's tab. "Come with us, sir. It's not very far."   
  
***   
  
Mothma stared at the vacant table, berating herself for being so trusting. She had thought Piett was loyal to their cause. Now he had gone -- and taken that datapad with him. Whatever valuable information had been in that message was lost.   
  
She tapped a code into her comm unit, signaling for an Alliance transport. It was time for the Rebellion to intervene directly.   
  
She left the Leapfrog so quickly she never noticed the message hastily scrawled in Aurebesh on a napkin. The waitress whisked away the note as she cleared off the table.   
  
***   
  
The police had assured Austin and the Churches that they would seriously investigate this alarming event. Stranger abductions were almost unheard of in Star City, but with help from the Denver police force they would surely find Trapper and Rachel very soon. The parents had replied that they had faith in the police force, that they could be slightly at ease now.   
  
They knew better. For all their good intentions, the officers were no match against the Emperor.   
  
After the police had gathered evidence and left, everyone retreated to the Osmonds' home. Almost all of them were still in pajamas, except for Vader and Fett, both in customary armor; Liz, who slept in the nude and was wearing a bathrobe; and Liberty, who had fallen asleep in her Vader armor. No one spoke or even laughed, a rarity for this crowd.   
  
"Maybe the Alliance can help," Amethyst suggested at last.   
  
"How?" demanded Jason flatly. "Even they aren't that stupid. Why would they risk losing troops for the sake of a couple of Earth kids?"   
  
"Oh, be optimistic for once, Eeyore," Emily chided.   
  
"I can try contacting Mon Mothma on the Falcon's communicator," Leia offered. "But Jason's right. Our resources are stretched awfully thin, and we don't have many ships or soldiers to spare for such a mission."   
  
"Why Rachel and Trapper, though?" asked Mike. "What would he want with them? They're just children."   
  
"A best-case scenario would be that they're simply being held hostage, and we will soon receive a list of demands," Vader replied. "The worst... he is seeking a new apprentice, and the children are young enough to be easily manipulated."   
  
Diana sobbed and collapsed against Conrad.   
  
Someone rapped on the door.   
  
"We'll get it," Jason said, and he and Patrick departed.   
  
"This is my fault," Luke murmured. "I should have sensed it coming..."   
  
"Don't bludgeon yourself to death over every event you feel you should have foreseen, Luke," Vader advised. "You'll beat yourself to death in a day. No one, not even a Jedi, can predict everything."   
  
Shouting and scuffling drew everyone's attention to the living room doorway, where the Osmonds were dragging in a bewildered-looking Admiral Piett.   
  
"Look who decided to show," Jason noted, keeping a tight grip on his captive's arm. "One of Palpy's stooges."   
  
"I'm no stooge!" growled Piett, trying to pull away. "I'm a member of the Rebel Alliance on an important mission!"   
  
"And I'm a sexy blue Twi'leck Jedi," Liberty said sarcastically.   
  
"I'm serious!" Piett cried. "Ask Mon Mothma! I spoke with her just this half-hour past!"   
  
Vader eyed him coolly. "How did you find us?"   
  
"An organization known as the Sons of the Sith," Piett replied. "I assumed they were affiliated with you somehow, my lord."   
  
"That stoned-up crazy cult?" asked Zack. "If they know you're here..."   
  
"No one takes the Sons of the Sith very seriously," Austin assured him.   
  
"And why are you here?" Vader continued.   
  
"I bear a message from the Emperor."   
  
That brought instant silence.   
  
"He speaks the truth," Vader announced. "Release him."   
  
The Osmonds let him go so abruptly he landed on his face on the carpet. Darcy helped him to his feet, and he handed the datapad to Vader. He dialed in the security code, and immediately everyone began to crowd around him, straining for a look.   
  
"Back off!" shouted Sparky. "Give him some space!"   
  
Reluctantly they drew away.   
  
Vader studied the screen closely as he read the message, then re-read it. His hands trembled as he passed the unit to Conrad.   
  
"Austin, Conrad, Diana, you need to read this," he said gravely, then left the room.   
  
"Where is he going?" demanded Fett.   
  
"Who cares?" replied Liz. "What's it say?"   
  
Diana and Austin read over Conrad's shoulders as he dictated the contents of the datapad in a shaky voice. In a matter of minutes, the worlds of all three of the parents came crashing down on them.   
  
"Former Apprentice, if you haven't deducted this already, my men have absconded with young Trapper Powers and Rachel Church. It was my hope that one or both of them would display some aptitude in the Force. The boy proved to be a disappointment, and I was obliged to destroy him.   
  
"Vader, you cannot know how perfectly suited for apprenticeship Rachel is. Not only is the Force strong with her, but she is old enough to understand the nature of her power yet young enough to be molded into an ideal acolyte. I do not doubt that it was the will of the Force that drew you and the girl together.   
  
"If you wish Rachel to be returned to her parents, I demand young Skywalker in exchange. Once your son is in Imperial custody, the girl will be sent home. If you decline... well, her training officially commences in twenty-four hours.   
  
"I am looking forward to completing your training, young Skywalker.   
  
"Emperor Palpatine." 


	23. Awakening Anakin

Chapter XXIII - Awakening Anakin  
  
No one was particularly surprised when the FBI showed up at the Osmonds. Indeed, most everyone was past caring. The entire Elite had taken the news of Trapper's death pretty hard.   
  
"Whaddaya want?" demanded Cody, opening the door.   
  
"Officer Matthews of the Federal Bureau of Investigation," said the shorter of the two agents, a brown-haired square-bodied man, as he flashed his badge. "This is my partner Officer Li." He gestured toward the tall, lanky Asian-American. "May we come in?"   
  
Under normal circumstances Cody would have made some smart-alecky comment about what FBI really stood for or screamed "Crap, it's the cops!" and slammed the door. Thankfully, today was not a normal day. "If you have to," he replied, backing away from the door so they could enter.   
  
"Who is it, Cody?" asked Leia just as the two agents met up with her.   
  
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Li greeted. "Officer Li, Federal Bureau of Investigation, and my partner Officer Matthews."   
  
She shook his hand. "You're here to investigate the abduction case?"   
  
The brief look of puzzlement on Li's face indicated not. "Actually, we were sent here to investigate the arrival of extraterrestrials."   
  
All eyes were on Li after that statement. Some of the Elite had been crying, others simply staring into space in depressed funks. Conrad and Diana were red-eyed and quite frazzled-looking with worry. Austin sat on a stool at the counter island in the kitchen, head buried in his arms, Liberty with comforting hands on his shoulders. The atmosphere was uncharacteristically solemn.   
  
"I'm sorry, did we come at a bad time?" asked Matthews.   
  
Austin lifted his head. "No sir. This is a fine time for you to be asking about aliens. Doesn't matter that my son is dead and a little girl is being held captive by a deranged Sith monarch! No, the aliens are top priority!" He burst into tears again.   
  
"Austin, calm down," Liberty said gently. "I know you're going through hell right now, but they didn't know about Trapper."   
  
"Your son?" repeated Matthews. "A little girl? What's all this?"   
  
Luke handed him the datapad. Matthews and Li skimmed the text and returned it. "We offer our condolences for your son, sir," Matthews said kindly. He turned to the Churches. You're the girl's parents, I presume?"   
  
They nodded.   
  
"I'd like to say we'll do our best to find your daughter," Matthews said sadly, "but in a case like this, our resources are obviously inadequate for the task."   
  
"Almost anyone's resources would be insufficient," declared Vader, striding in at that moment, recovered from his shock. "The Emperor is not one to be trifled with."   
  
The agents stared, wide-eyed, at the hulk of a man.   
  
"So you found us," Vader remarked. "Our efforts to blend in weren't as successful as we thought. May I ask how you traced us?"   
  
"It -- it started when NASA discovered unusual activity in space this past month," Li, explained, his voice starting out weak but strengthening as he regained confidence. "At first they thought it might be a meteor shower or a fragmented comet, but upon closer examination..."   
  
The door slammed. Jason was about to rail at whoever had simply let themselves in uninvited when a gray-haired, bearded, bespectacled man in jeans and a blue button-up shirt entered the living room. The Stargeeks gawked as Matthews displayed his badge to the intruder.   
  
"Sir, I'm Officer Matthews of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We're conducting an investigation of this household. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."   
  
"I would think I'd be allowed to talk to our outer-space visitors, seeing as I introduced the world to them," the man replied in a mild voice, giving an amused smile.   
  
"George Lucas?" gaped Zack. "What are you doing off Skywalker Ranch? And where's your flannel?"   
  
"Zack!" snapped Liz.   
  
"What?" demanded Zack. "I was just asking!"   
  
Lucas laughed. "I'm fully aware that I go by 'The Flanneled One' in some circles," he said with a grin. "I received a phone call from the CIA telling me what was going on here in Colorado. I was pretty sure it wasn't a hoax, so I called a hiatus on the Episode III work and flew up. I stopped at a diner for lunch and saw the news of the kidnapping, and in the garbage can I found this." He held up a wadded up napkin.   
  
"Looks like doodles to me," Matthews noted, smoothing it out.   
  
"It's Aurebesh," Han corrected. "Our main written language."   
  
"It reads 'Mothma, at the following address, meet me there, Piett,' and it gives this address," Lucas explained. "Piett, I presume this is yours?"   
  
The Admiral nodded.   
  
"You might want to see this," Steve said, giving the datapad to Lucas.   
  
His face went grave as he read. "This is terrible," he said.   
  
Vader stared down at the film tycoon, stunned. This was the man responsible for revealing his past to the entire planet? The Force confirmed it -- this was the object of his quest. This was the mysterious Lucas. And now that he'd found him, he realized he hadn't the desire to carry out his original intent.   
  
"There was a time, Mr. Lucas, when I would have terminated you to prevent you from releasing information about my fall," Vader said quietly. "That time is past. I'm very glad to meet you in person."   
  
"And it's a pleasure to meet you," Lucas beamed, shaking Vader's hand.   
  
"How'd you KNOW?!" squealed Darcy. "Like, how'd you get it all right, right down to the buttons?! All but 'Return of the Jedi,' of course, but still..."   
  
Lucas shook his head. "I honestly don't know, miss. It just... fit, that's all. I could sense when it fit. Maybe that's why something always felt off about 'Return of the Jedi,' no matter how much we tinkered with it. Maybe that's why we felt compelled to release the corrected version, the Special Edition, even though many fans raked us over the coals for some of the changed sequences. Everyone working on the film could feel when it was right -- the actors, concept artists, effects teams, animators, even the hair stylists. Everyone knew. And we didn't let it alone until it was the way we knew it was supposed to be. That's all I can say."   
  
Vader had been expecting an answer of this sort. It didn't exactly excite him, but it wasn't disappointing either. "Mr. Li, you were saying..."   
  
"Yes," Li continued. "On closer examination the so-called 'meteor storm' turned out to be what looked alarmingly like Star Wars style starfighters, as well as a larger 'mother' ship. Several members of the team happened to be fans of the series and identified the ships as X-wings, TIE fighters, a Rebel transport, a Firespray, and a Super Stardestroyer. As first NASA thought these fans had played some kind of joke and had them suspended, but when three of the ships actually landed in the Rockies and the Stardestroyer began orbiting Earth, we realized it was real.   
  
"NASA informed Washington DC, who ordered NASA to keep the discovery confidential and investigated. They found the three ships in White Deer National Park but no other signs of extraterrestrial visitors. They were about to withdraw the investigation when reports came from Star City of a skirmish at a party. Reports are garbled seeing as some witnesses only got a glimpse of the tussle and others were too drunk to recall details. But all the stories bore one common thread -- lightsabers were drawn.   
  
"We kept an eye on the area, and reports continued to trickle in. Homeowners reported unusual sounds near this address, including blaster shots, screams, and what was described as a Wookie roar. A mysterious explosion was reported in the Leapfrog Diner's restroom, an explosion that yielded machinery that closely resembled a Star Wars robot -- or droid, if you want to get technical, and I know you Stargeeks do.   
  
"In Denver a seven-vehicle car chase resulted in various wrecks that left twelve people injured and six dead. Autopsies performed on five of the dead revealed a startling fact -- the deceased men were genetically identical. The government seized the bodies and did further tests. Sure enough, the men were clones. The sixth fatality was a woman, positively identified by an eighteen-year-old mugging victim as her assailant. The woman had attacked her, knocked her out, stolen her clothing, and left her in a dumpster near the convention center.   
  
"We tracked the license plate numbers of the cars involved in the chase. Six of them had been stolen, but the seventh was a totaled Chevy Citation that had been abandoned at the scene. The plates identified the owner as Amethyst Andrews, a twenty-six-year-old cashier with no previous brushes with the law apart from a speeding ticket. Family members told us she was a member of a Star Wars fan club that met regularly at this address." He gave an all-encompassing sweep of his arm. "And here we are. Too late to avert tragedy, I'm afraid, but still willing to help in any capacity."   
  
After a long moment's silence, Piett turned to Vader. "So what's our next move, m'lord?"   
  
"What?" Vader said, surprised by the inquiry.   
  
"Lady Mothma never showed. You're the highest-ranking person here, and you've had more experience with these matters."   
  
"What matters?"   
  
"The girl, of course," Piett replied. "I thought you would be plotting how to rescue her. You know the Emperor's habits better than anyone alive. You're familiar with the Executor's interior, more so than I. And you're one of the most highly trained Force weilders in the galaxy." He saluted. "I follow you, Vader."   
  
Vader shook his head in disbelief. "You're faith is ill-placed, Piett."   
  
"C'mon, Vader!" urged Emily. "You have to!"   
  
"You're the Chosen One, Vader," Lucas added. "Only the Chosen One can defeat the Emperor."   
  
"You know my history, Lucas," Vader snarled, shaking a fist at the director. "You know the effects of my decisions upon the galaxy. Do I need to refresh your memory?" Anyone sitting on the floor scooted out of the way as he began to pace. "I, Lord Darth Vader, formerly known as Anakin Skywalker, am responsible for massacring an entire Tusken Raider caravan; breaking virtually every law and code of the Jedi Order; almost single-handedly exterminating said Order; slaughtering upwards of nine thousand Jedi; helping to instate a bigoted totalitarian regime with a dark-sider lunatic at its helm; killing my own subordinate officers over petty errors; maiming, torturing, and psychologically brutalizing my own children and their friends; attempting to murder the last surviving Jedi, who happens to be my own son; and allowing two children to fall into the hands of a tyrannical Sith nutcase who's already killed one and has plans to turn the other into a female Darth Maul reincarnate!" He drove his fist into the wall so hard two pictures were jolted down, then whirled to glare at the others. "HAVE I LEFT ANYTHING OUT?!"   
  
Matthews shrugged. "Sounds like a pretty complete list to me."   
  
"Shut up," Li hissed.   
  
"You did slice up the living room ceiling with a lightsaber," Steve pointed out.   
  
"And you wrecked my car," Amethyst added.   
  
"Thank you, Steve and Amethyst," Vader said sarcastically, sinking into a chair. "I'd forgotten those two." He cupped his masked face in his hands, the picture of utter dejection. "I should never have come here. It's brought no good."   
  
Leia went and knelt by her father, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Father, you can do this. So you've made some mistakes. This is your chance to redeem them."   
  
Vader did not reply.   
  
"You ARE the Chosen One," Lucas declared. "You are meant to bring balance to the Force. To bring balance, you must do away with the Sith. There's enough evil in the galaxy without the Sith. Their very existence upsets the balance of the Force. You are the only one who can accomplish that balance. Even your fall is evidence of that. A Jedi could never hope to defeat the Sith. Nor could a Sith turn on and successfully overthrow his own Order. But a man of both sides of the Force, of both disciplines, may stand a chance."   
  
"Do it for the galaxy," Piett encouraged. "There are thousands of planets and trillions of innocent lives at stake."   
  
"And Rachel," added Brigham. "If for no one else, do it for Rachel. She trusts you and is counting on you."   
  
Vader closed his eyes, only half-listening to what the others were saying. Most of his attention was focused within. The Force lay deep within him as always, waiting tentatively. It seemed to be anticipating his next move, as if his next choice, his next action, would determine his allegiance. And it did. It did.   
  
He could surrender Luke to Palpatine. That would assure the permanent fate of the Skywalkers as fixtures of the dark side. The galaxy would continue its spiral into darkness and self-destruction, dragging every soul within to a dismal fate.   
  
He could do nothing. That, too, would be casting his lot with the dark side. In not fighting the Emperor, he would hasten the Sith's corruption and oppression. And he would damn Rachel to the same torment he had suffered as a servant of the Emperor.   
  
Or he could lead the strike against his former master. If he succeeded, he would fulfill the prophecy and spare the girl from harm -- but more importantly, he would declare himself an ally of the light. If he failed, he would die doing the right thing, and he might even take the Emperor with him.   
  
His hand went to his lightsaber and tightened around the grip.   
  
/There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is order. There is no death; there is the Force./   
  
When Anakin died and gave birth to Vader, he had perished amid scorching flames and vapors. Now there was no fire, no lava, no phoenix-esque spectacle of any sort. But with the recitation of the Jedi Code and his subsequent decision, another metamorphosis took place within the sable armor.   
  
Darth Vader died and Anakin Skywalker was reborn in that instant.   
  
"We're going after her." 


	24. Operation Elite

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I keep referring to the Luke/Vader Writers site -- there's even a shameless plug for it in chapter 16, I think. It's a haven for people who like to write stories with lots of Luke/Vader interaction. You can find them at http://members.tripod.com/luke_vader_writers/Home. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter XXIV - Operation Elite  
  
"I don't like the idea of Earth people coming along," Luke said for the fifth time.   
  
Leia sighed. "Matthews and Li are professionals, Luke. They can take care of themselves." She watched as Li exited the bathroom and let his partner enter to change his clothes -- suits were rather inappropriate attire for physical activity. "Besides, they want to come, despite the risks."   
  
"I don't have a problem with them going. It's Austin I'm worried about. Are you sure it's a good idea to take him?"   
  
"I've tried dissuading him," Anakin replied. "But he won't hear of it."   
  
Luke, Leia, Anakin, the agents, and Austin readied themselves for the mission, preparing weapons and changing into battle-suitable clothing. The Osmond brothers had gone to Jason's work on a mysterious errand, and the rest of the Elite had presumably gone back to their respective homes or workplaces. Han, Chewie, and Fett were back in the landing meadow, doing repairs on the Slave.   
  
"Yes, is Liberty there?" Austin asked, cradling the telephone receiver in the crook of his shoulder while he cleaned a blaster rifle. "Well, when do you expect her back? Hmm. That's odd. She never leaves work early. If she does stop by, just tell her I called." He dialed another number and waited. "Damn, it's her answering machine. Hi, this is Austin. I'm going with Vader and the others on the rescue mission. If I don't get back... I just want you to know... I love you." He hung up.   
  
"I'd appreciate it if you called me Anakin," Anakin told him.   
  
"Sorry. Old habits die hard."   
  
"Austin, for the last time, you would be wise to go back home," Anakin said firmly. "We have the situation under control."   
  
Austin glared at him, a tortured fire burning in his ice-blue eyes. "My son was murdered by that fiend. I loved Trapper. He was the greatest treasure of my life. If I die trying to save another child from a similar fate, so be it, but at least I'll be with Trapper again." He paused to regain his composure. "If you want me to stay behind, you'll have to sedate me and chain me up first."   
  
Anakin stared at Austin, then slowly collapsed into a chair. "Great stars," he breathed. "That was why love was forbidden."   
  
"What do you mean?" asked Leia.   
  
"Love is the most powerful emotion there is," Anakin explained. "It can be twisted into grief, rage, joy, hatred, any number of alternate forms, but it is just as strong nonetheless. It can create... or it can destroy." He gestured toward his children. "My love for Padme created you, but it also destroyed me. Austin's love for his son has been transformed into hatred toward the Emperor, and his love will destroy Palpatine or be destroyed trying." He shook his head in wonder. "Why it took me so long to realize..."   
  
"I never thought of it that way," Li said. "I'm not a fanatic, but I've seen the movies. I thought the rule forbidding love was just something particular to the Jedi religion, like Judaism forbidding eating pork or the Shakers forbidding sex."   
  
"That's still no reason for forbidding love," Leia protested. "Love can do so much good!"   
  
"If one is careful, it can," Luke replied. "Apparently too many Jedi weren't being careful, and the Order had to ban it."   
  
There was a knock on the door.   
  
"I'll get it," offered Li, opening the door.   
  
"Austin?"   
  
The leader of Vader's Elite looked up. Striding into the living room was Liberty, wearing safari-type khakis, her red-and-blonde striped hair held back in a utilitarian braid. She carried a crossbow, and a quiver of arrows was slung over her shoulder.   
  
"I didn't think I'd catch you in time."   
  
"You can't come, Lib," Austin ordered.   
  
"And why not?" she demanded. "I'm a crack shot with this." She held up the crossbow. "I know judo and tae kwon do. I can handle it."   
  
"Liberty," Austin said warningly.   
  
"I loved Trapper too," she continued, her voice breaking at the end of that statement. "He was like the son I'll never be able to have. And more than anything, I'd like to wring a few Imp necks and get Rachel back."   
  
"Liberty..."   
  
She threw the crossbow on the couch, grabbed Austin's head, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Too startled to protest, Austin responded in kind.   
  
"I love you," Liberty breathed once they'd pulled apart. "And I'm not going to let you kill yourself on this jaunt. I'm going to be there to guard your back, whether you like it or not."   
  
Austin sighed heavily. "Well, I DON'T like it..."   
  
"Tough. I'm going." She realized the others were staring at her. "Any of you wanna tell me I'm not?"   
  
Luke shrugged. "I have a feeling it won't make any difference."   
  
Someone else knocked, and Li opened the door to admit Brigham, who carried a long- range hunting rifle and a skinning knife in a belt sheath.   
  
"Brigham?" Anakin said in amazement. "I didn't know your religion permitted weapons."   
  
"We are taught," Brigham said confidently, "to fight when the cause is just, to fight for our lives, our freedom, our faith, our wives -- and our children. We fight for a just cause now. The Lord is behind us."   
  
Liberty rolled her eyes. "Yes, Porter Rockwell."   
  
"Shut up, Liberty," Brigham retorted.   
  
At that moment, Zack strutted into the house in all his glory, wearing camoflauge pants, combat boots, and a too-big army green tank top and carrying a semi-automatic that made him look like a Jawa trying to handle a laser cannon.   
  
"Ready to rumble!" he cried. "Do I look like Rambo or what?"   
  
"No, you look like a dork," snapped Liz, entering the house armed with an AK-47.   
  
The entire Elite was pouring into the house, carrying guns of every kind, knives, clubs, body armor, even a battered sword. All wore expressions of determination, united in their cause. A ragtag army to say the very least, but the Skywalkers knew they would never find a more dedicated group of volunteers anywhere on the planet.   
  
"Who wants to be the one to tell them they're not coming with us?" Leia remarked dryly.   
  
"Oh no," groaned Matthews as he surveyed the motley crew. "We can't have them all go."   
  
"Many hands make light work," Emily pointed out, twisting the sword in its scabbard.   
  
"Yeah, what she said," Mike added as he patted his shotgun. Abruptly it went off, obliterating the kitchen light fixture.   
  
"Not again," moaned Patrick.   
  
"Mike, gimmie that," Emily demanded, wrenching the gun from him. "Hold this instead." She gave him the sword.   
  
"Let them come," Anakin said. "The more help we have, the better. My only request is that someone stays on the planet to keep us updated on planetside events. I'd be a fool to think the Emperor will leave Earth unmolested during our strike."   
  
"Already taken care of," Sparky replied, wheeling himself to the front. "George, Piett, and I will remain on Earth with a comm unit courtesy of our good Admiral. I'm afraid I'd only get in the way in a battle."   
  
"You'll be doing us a great service," Leia told him.   
  
Luke looked up from his own comm. "That was Han. The Falcon and Slave are as ready for travel as they're going to be. They're waiting for us."   
  
"Let's go start some aggressive negotiations!" shouted Cody as everyone headed out the door.   
  
***   
  
In the Falcon's landing meadow, the Elite bustled about to prepare for the journey. Most members exchanged their conventional guns for blaster weapons, though the crossbow, shotgun, sword, and two automatics remained in the arsenal in case a situation arose where a blaster was useless. Sparky, Lucas, and Piett helped prep and load weapons while Anakin briefed everyone on what to expect once they boarded the Executor. Artoo projected a map of the Stardestroyer's interior as reference.   
  
In the other meadow, Fett loaded the last of his personal gear into the Slave and began one last pre-flight check.   
  
"Fett?"   
  
Liz entered the clearing, clutching a blaster rifle. "What are you doing?"   
  
He hit the loading ramp. "Leaving."   
  
"Well, I can see that," she snapped. "Aren't you coming with us?"   
  
He gave her an even look. "I'm a mercenary, Liz. I take no sides. I am neutral and will always remain so."   
  
She gave him a glare that could have withered durasteel. "Rachel's being held captive by a crazed hack and you're picking NOW to be neutral?!"   
  
"I am very sorry about the girl," Fett replied coolly. "She was a sweet thing. But it has long been my policy to not get muddled up in the Civil War. Or in any other political conflict, for that matter. My father subscribed to that belief, and so shall I."   
  
"Damn you, Fett!" shrieked Liz. "Your father this, your father that, you follow your father off a cliff! So what? Jango Fett wasn't a god! He was a person and he's dead! Get over it already!"   
  
Fett's hand came up to strike her. She was expecting this. She'd seen him slap a girl at Stellar-Con for bashing the elder Fett. She didn't flinch but only held his gaze defiantly.   
  
The hand never connected. He lowered it slowly. "Don't you ever, ever say that to me again, Liz."   
  
"Why not?" she retorted. "Because it's true?"   
  
"I loved my father. He was my hero. In many ways, he was me and I was him." He looked away. "Part of me died the day I saw the Jedi strike him down."   
  
"Then why the hell do you let the rest of you wallow in it?" She jammed a finger into his chest. "Be your own person, Fett, not a Jango incarnate! You won't ever be Jango! Deal with it!"   
  
"Point well made, but it does not change my mind."   
  
She exploded in a torrent of expletives. "You're incredible, Fett! You know what we're up against! You know what we're fighting! We could use you! You're a good fighter! We need you!"   
  
"I know what you face. But rest assured we are not on opposite sides. I can't join you, but I will not aid the Empire and fight against you."   
  
"You're already aiding the Empire! Your apathy aids it! By not fighting the Empire you're saying what they're doing is okay and allowing them to keep hurting innocent people! If you're not with us, you're against us!"   
  
He let her finish ranting. Once she ran out of steam he placed his hands on her shoulders.   
  
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Liz. I had hoped we would part on good terms. But that doesn't seem to be the case."   
  
"Boba, it's not like that," she hissed, trying to wrench away.   
  
He held her fast. She placed her hands against his chest to push him away but paused, puzzled, as he reached for his helmet. With a swift motion he pulled it off.   
  
She had expected Boba Fett to look like Jango under the mask. And he did have the same Maori-type features. But there were subtle differences that set the son of Jango apart. The scar patterns were different, for one thing. There was less flesh on his face, giving him an aquiline look. In Episode II Temeura Morrison's character had always had an amused look on his face, but Boba's expression was steely and ruthless, with dark eyes that glittered with a savage fire.   
  
Liz barely had time to wonder why she was privy to a sight no other living being in the galaxy had seen before he pulled her close and kissed her.   
  
She relaxed against him, sliding her hands around his neck. He embraced her tightly and gently raised a hand to caress the side of her face. For one glorious moment the Galactic Civil War, the rescue mission, everything faded away except the arms around her and the lips upon her mouth. For a moment that was an eternity, she knew paradise.   
  
He pulled away, his eyes briefly aglow with something tender and human before they hardened again. Retrieving his helmet, he slid it back over his head. Once more he was the inhuman bounty hunter.   
  
"Come with me, Liz," he offered.   
  
She shook her head. "You know I can't, Fett. Our worlds are too different." She looked away. "I'd be a freak out there. And you'd be a freak here."   
  
He released her. "Then this is goodbye."   
  
Tears blurred her vision. "I love you," she whispered.   
  
He nodded. "I know."   
  
And with that, he boarded the Slave.   
  
Liz stared, numb, as the Firespray lifted off with a roar and disappeared in the graying evening sky.   
  
"Liz, we're ready to go," Leia said, entering the meadow.   
  
She forced herself to look away from the receding mote. "I'd hoped he'd come around."   
  
Leia opened her mouth to speak, but Liz jumped on her. "I know, I know, he has to follow his own path! No one can choose it for him!"   
  
"I wasn't going to say that," Leia replied. "I was going to say it's a shame. You two made a cute couple."   
  
Liz gave a resigned smile. "I don't know, Leia. Maybe there are reasons our worlds weren't supposed to collide. If I were to go with him I'd be 'The Beverly Hillbilly' in space. If he were to stay here he'd be 'My Favorite Martian.' Our cultures are way too different for us to make the transition..."   
  
"Liz," Leia said gently, cutting her off. "We'll all miss him. But we can't wish him back. Now come on. Time's wasting."   
  
***   
  
"I feel like James Bond!" Zack hooted. He began humming the Bond theme, then saw Liz's melancholy expression. "Hey, I thought you liked Bond..."   
  
"Shut up," she hissed. "Right now I feel like crap."   
  
"Well, I feel like we forgot something," said Mike.   
  
"We got all the important stuff," Jason replied. "Anything else can wait."   
  
The Millennium Falcon streaked through the purple twilight, carrying what had to be its largest passenger load ever. Back on the ground, a golden humanoid waved its arms in despair.   
  
"Wait!" Threepio shouted. "You can't leave me here!" He lowered his hands in exasperation. "Oh dear. Why is it always me?" 


	25. Meet the Kids

Chapter XXV - Meet The Kids  
  
Trapper had always wanted to ride on a starship. But now that he was actually on board one, he didn't enjoy it in the least. He was too frightened to enjoy anything.   
  
He hoped Mom was okay. Those stormtroopers had beaten her pretty hard before dragging him away. They hadn't been exactly gentle with him either. His arms still hurt where that commander had grabbed him.   
  
Rachel sat across the cell from him, picking lint off her pajamas. She had a bruise on her cheek where someone had clamped their hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. When she looked up at him, her eyes were bright with fear.   
  
"Don't be scared, Rachel," he told her, unable to keep his voice from trembling.   
  
"I'm cold," she whimpered. "I want Mori."   
  
"Come sit by me and you won't be so cold," Trapper offered. "I can't get your Wookie for you, but I think you'll live without him for awhile."   
  
She snuggled into his side, and he curled an arm around her. Somehow it comforted him to know he wasn't the only frightened one. He took some strength in that.   
  
He must have dozed off, for the next thing he knew two stormtroopers were shaking him awake. He wondered if they were the same ones who had ambushed them near the airport. It was hard to tell. They all looked pretty much alike.   
  
"Stand up," one of them ordered -- he couldn't tell which.   
  
They obeyed. The first nudged Trapper out. He turned while exiting to see the second stormtrooper squatting and whispering to Rachel. She whispered something back.   
  
/What's that all about?/ he wondered.   
  
A dozen Royal Guards stood outside the detention block, resplendent in their crimson helmets and robes. The troopers herded the children toward them and saluted.   
  
"The girl comes with us," said their leader.   
  
"What about the boy?" asked the first trooper.   
  
"Take care of it," the guard replied without emotion.   
  
Trapper thought he knew what the guard meant by that. His guts churned.   
  
The Royal Guards escorted Rachel down the corridor. The first trooper shoved Trapper between the shoulders to get him moving in the other direction.   
  
"I'll handle this," he told his comrade.   
  
"Don't forget to clean up after," the second trooper warned.   
  
His legs felt like Jello as he walked, expecting at any moment to feel the searing of a blaster bolt in his back. He'd seen plenty of action movies. This was always the part where the hero concocted some daring getaway plan. Here he was supposed to somehow dupe his captor and flee. How hard could that be? Troopers were dumb. But fear paralyzed his brain, and he couldn't think of any way out of this situation.   
  
/At least I'll die running/ he decided finally. He glanced around to see if the way was clear. As he was looking, his gaze fell on the stormtrooper's pistol.   
  
/The safety's on!/   
  
All this time the soldier had his blaster's safety catch on! No doubt he'd figured the simple presence of a blaster would threaten a kid into submission. Trapper quietly thanked Luke for teaching him a little bit about Imperial weapons.   
  
He turned around to face his captor. "Can I say something before you kill me?"   
  
The trooper shrugged. "Make it quick."   
  
He pulled off his T-shirt. "Eat my dust!" he shouted, throwing the garment into the stormtrooper's face and bolting down a side corridor.   
  
"What the -- hey!" the trooper shouted.   
  
Trapper didn't even turn to look at his pursuer. He just charged down the hall, looking around desperately for a hiding place. Three more troopers were standing by the wall gossiping, and they gave him curious glances as he sped past.   
  
"Stop him!" the first trooper panted.   
  
As Trapper rounded a corner he spotted a queer-looking droid slowly wheeling its way along. It looked like a miniature Jawa sandcrawler with a pair of grasping arms on the front. On impulse he slapped a button on its front, and he nearly cheered when the droid's top slid open. Its blocky body was hollow and half-filled with clothing. It hadn't occurred to him that they did laundry on the Executor, but with upwards of a thousand crew members on board of course it would be necessary.   
  
By the time the four stormtroopers rounded the bend, Trapper was nowhere to be found.   
  
"He couldn't have gone far," one of them declared. "Search the halls. If you see him, shoot him."   
  
Stormtroopers were not renowned for their intellect, so none of them thought to investigate the laundry droid, where Trapper huddled and hardly dared to breathe.   
  
***   
  
Rachel couldn't remember what the men in the red robes were called. She knew the ones in white were stormtroopers, but she didn't know what to call the red ones. Maybe Daddy would tell her when she got home.   
  
That stormtrooper back at the dungeon had been very nice, not like the ones who had broken her bedroom window and grabbed her. He had told her he and some of his stormtrooper friends were going to try and send her back home. So she had told him something he said he would use as a code word. She hoped he would hurry and get her home. This place was scary.   
  
She thought these men looked pretty in their red clothes. She liked the color red. Mommy was always dressing her in pink and purple. Those were nice colors, but she liked red.   
  
"Where we going?" she asked loudly.   
  
One of them looked at her. "To the Emperor."   
  
"Oh." She didn't like the Emperor. He looked ugly. And he was scary. She always shut her eyes on the part of the movie where he was zapping Luke. It looked like it hurt.   
  
They stopped in front of a big set of doors guarded by two more red-robed men, who opened the doors for them. She smiled and waved at one of them.   
  
"Your clothes are pretty!" she shouted.   
  
"Uh... thanks," he replied.   
  
"You don't address guards while they're on duty," the man next to her scolded.   
  
"What's that mean?"   
  
"When they're standing by the door, don't talk to them."   
  
"Why not?"   
  
He sighed. Grownups did that a lot when she asked questions. What was wrong with asking questions? She just wanted to know how things worked and why.   
  
"He's supposed to be doing a job," he explained. "He can't do it if you're talking to him."   
  
"Oh. Okay."   
  
They went inside a big room with lots of windows where she could see the stars and part of the Earth, all pretty with swirls of blue and brown and white. Staring out one of the windows was a man in blue robes with lots of white hair that stood up a little. Just beside him was a big black chair with buttons on the arms.   
  
"Your Highness, we've brought the girl," the man beside her said.   
  
"Good," the man in blue said, turning around. "Now leave us."   
  
The man bowed and left.   
  
Rachel screwed up her face, confused. The Emperor didn't look like the Emperor from the old movies. He looked more like the man from the two new movies, with a big- sleeved robe covered with fancy stitches and a big friendly smile. The only difference was that his face was really pale and his eyes were a funny orange color.   
  
"Hello, Rachel," he said in a nice-sounding voice. "Do you know who I am?"   
  
She nodded. "You're Pal-puh-teen," she said slowly, trying to get all the parts right. "I saw you on 'Fan-tum Menace.'"   
  
"Really?" he said, his smile getting bigger.   
  
"Uh-huh." She cocked her head. "You sure got a big nose."   
  
He laughed a little. "You're a cute child, Rachel." He sat down on the throne and patted his knee. "Come sit with me."   
  
She didn't want to. The Emperor was a mean man, even though he looked nice right now. She knew that. He made everyone in the galaxy scared of him, even Vader. Nice people didn't scare other people on purpose. And he had shocked Luke in the movie. That was really mean. Luke didn't do anything to deserve getting shocked.   
  
"Come now, Rachel," he said in a very nice voice, sounding almost like her grandpa. "I don't bite."   
  
She shook her head.   
  
"At least come a little closer?"   
  
She looked at her feet, took one step, and looked back at him.   
  
"Well, that's a start," he replied. "Tell me, child, how do you feel?"   
  
"I'm hungry," she whined. "And I left Mori at home."   
  
The Emperor pushed a button on his chair. "Meal for one, child portions," he ordered. "There now, you can eat and feel better. But who is this Mori? Is he a pet?"   
  
"Kinda." She looked down and dug her toe into the floor. "He's a Wookie doll."   
  
"I see. Well, if it makes you feel better, I can get you a new Wookie doll. He won't be as special as Mori, but he'll still be yours."   
  
"Thank you," she said shyly.   
  
"Thank you, your Highness," he corrected. "You say that to me from now on, all right? It's a way to show respect."   
  
She didn't want to show respect to the mean old Emperor, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, your Highness."   
  
"Good, Rachel," he said with a really big smile. "You're so smart, and you learn so fast. I think we're going to be good friends."   
  
A droid brought in a tray with some good-smelling food on it and gave it to Rachel. She sat down on the floor, set the tray in her lap, and started eating. She knew she should use her manners, but she was so hungry.   
  
"Slow down, little one!" he told her. "You'll choke yourself."   
  
"This is good," she said with her mouth full. "Thank you." Then she remembered. "Your Highness."   
  
"I'm glad you enjoy it. Stars, you really were hungry."   
  
She ate everything on the tray and even licked it clean. She wondered how long she and Trapper had been in that dungeon. Long enough to miss breakfast and maybe lunch too, she thought.   
  
"Now child," the Emperor said once the droid had left with the tray, "I'd like to talk to you. What do you know about the Force?"   
  
She stared at him. "You mean you don't know nothin' about the Force?"   
  
"I know plenty about the Force. I want to know what you know, though."   
  
"Well, the Force is where you pick something up without touching it, or you go like this and something flies into your hand." She held out her hand. "Or you go like this and trick somebody's brain." She waved her fingers. "Or you go like this and they choke." She made a C-shape with her fingers. "Or you shoot lightning from your fingers and shock somebody, though that's not very nice to do."   
  
He nodded. "Go on."   
  
She thought a minute. "The Force has a light side and a dark side and it holds the universe together. Like duct tape, Cody says. He thinks it's funny, but I don't get it."   
  
"Keep talking."   
  
"Ummmm... people who use the Force have lightsabers. Sith have red lightsabers and Jedi have blue or green ones -- except Mace, his is purple. The Jedi are on the light side. They wear robes and have funny haircuts and they're the good guys. The Sith are on the dark side. They wear black and are all named Darth and they're the bad guys..."   
  
"Stop there, Rachel. Now who told you the Sith are bad?"   
  
"No one! They just are!" She rolled her eyes. Did she have to explain this to him? "Jedi are good and Sith are bad and they fight each other!"   
  
"And how do you know this?" he asked, giving a funny little grin.   
  
"I watched the Star Wars movies."   
  
"Ah. And do all movies tell the truth?"   
  
"Uh-uh. There's a dragon in 'Sleeping Beauty,' and there's no such thing as dragons. People fly in 'Peter Pan' but they can't really. Candles and clocks and teapots can't talk like in 'Beauty and the Beast'..."   
  
"I get the point, Rachel," he interrupted. "So if those movies are wrong, what makes you say the Star Wars movies are accurate?"   
  
"What's that mean?"   
  
"Accurate means correct."   
  
"'Course Star Wars is correct! It told all about you guys!"   
  
"And everything happened in real life like it happened in Star Wars?"   
  
She hadn't thought about that. "No, I guess not. You and Vader didn't die like in the movie."   
  
He smiled really big. "So if it's wrong about us dying, it could be wrong about the Sith being bad guys."   
  
"Nuh-uh! The Sith are still bad! Dark is evil!"   
  
The Emperor made a tired grown-up sigh. "Rachel, you have to learn to not believe everything someone tells you just because they say it's right. You're old enough to make your own opinions."   
  
"What's opinions?"   
  
"An opinion is what you think of something or someone."   
  
"Oh, I got lots of opinions! I think Jedi are good guys and Sith are bad guys, and I think you're mean and ugly!"   
  
He closed his eyes and whispered to himself "It's easier than converting Skywalker, it's easier than converting Skywalker, it's easier than converting Skywalker..." 


	26. The Empire Attacks

Chapter XXVI - The Empire Attacks  
  
If anyone on the Executor had seen "A New Hope," they wouldn't have fallen for this trick. But their ignorance was fortunate. At least, it was fortunate for the Falcon's occupants, even if it wasn't exactly bliss.   
  
"Whose elbow is in my stomach?" demanded Liz.   
  
"Not mine," Mike replied. "My arm's stuck between Darcy and Steve."   
  
"Eww!" Darcy squealed. "Someone just licked me!"   
  
"Okay, who cut the cheese?" asked Steve.   
  
"Will everyone shut up!" hissed Han.   
  
Fitting twenty people on the Falcon wasn't too difficult a task, but squeezing those same twenty people into the freighter's various secret compartments and cubbyholes was another task entirely. What with the various spats, pushing around, and occasional pointed remark about personal hygiene, it was a wonder they hadn't been discovered yet.   
  
At last Han slid the floor panel aside, allowing himself, Liz, Mike, Steve, and Darcy to extract themselves from the tiny chamber. Anakin, Li, Conrad, Leia, and Zack crawled out of another. The rest of the gang crept through the corridor, all looking rather cross at being locked in such snug quarters for over half an hour.   
  
"Okay, we're on the danged Stardestroyer," said Jason. "Now what?"   
  
"We make a run for it," Luke replied.   
  
"Uh, I got a look out the window as we were coming here," Amethyst pointed out. "The place is crawling with stormies."   
  
"We need a distraction," Matthews suggested.   
  
"I brought my trooper armor," Brigham pointed out. "I can go out, impersonate a stormie, and lead them away."   
  
"I have a better idea," Leia offered.   
  
***   
  
A single stormtrooper emerged from the Falcon, escorting a handcuffed smuggler and a bound, irate Wookie. The commander approached the soldier and gave his captives a skeptical look.   
  
"What's your ID number?" he barked.   
  
"TK-421, sir."   
  
That seemed to satisfy him. "Where did you find them?"   
  
"In the cargo hold, destroying their goods. They surrendered on the spot."   
  
"Good work, 421. Take them to the detention block. Need assistance?"   
  
"No, sir. I can handle it."   
  
The commander nodded, then ordered his troops out. No one was left to watch the trooper release his "captives," or to watch the three of them head back to the ship to meet its occupants.   
  
"Let's boogie," Brigham advised. "Don't know how long they'll stay away."   
  
"Continue as ordered," Anakin said. "Team A will proceed to the bridge and engage the main troops. Team B will make its way to the living quarters and search for Rachel. Divide and conquer!"   
  
Team A, consisting of Han, Chewie, Leia, Austin, Liberty, Brigham, Steve, Cody, Darcy, Zack, Amethyst, Steve, and Li, split off and headed for the bridge. Anakin, Luke, Conrad, Diana, Liz, Matthews, Emily, and Mike slipped down a darkened hallway.   
  
"Planetside report," Anakin barked into his comm.   
  
"Nothing unusual," Lucas replied. "Everyone and their dog's out by the convention center to watch the lunar eclipse. If there are Imperials, it may be hard to spot them."   
  
Matthews shouted a warning as a cluster of stormtroopers rounded the bend, blocking their path. Behind them, another group of troopers cut off their escape route. Anakin ignited his lightsaber.   
  
"Stop!" the leader protested, holding up a hand. He wore the orange shoulder paldron of a sergeant, and a black bandolier striped his breastplate from right shoulder to left hip. In fact, every stormtrooper surrounding them was similarly marked.   
  
"We're allies, not foes," the sergeant went on. "Admiral Piett has our vows that we follow Lord Vader, whatever his allegiance may be. We will aid your mission, which we believe is to rescue the girl."   
  
"And I went to Hershey, Pennsylvania to meet the Amish," Emily retorted.   
  
"Come again?" the sergeant asked.   
  
"In other words, fat chance," Conrad snapped.   
  
"I speak the truth," the sergeant defended. He pointed to his sash. "Piett informed us of an organization on Earth that wears gold bandoliers to set themselves apart. We chose to identify ourselves in a similar fashion. If you ask him, he should be able to tell you."   
  
Anakin flicked on his comm. "Get Piett on the line."   
  
"Piett's in the john paying homage to the porcelain god," Sparky replied. "Somebody should've warned him not to eat the fish at the Leapfrog."   
  
He hissed in exasperation. "Piett is unavailable. I'll need further proof that you are truly here to aid us and not leading us into a trap."   
  
The sergeant turned and nodded at a subordinate, who stepped forward. "I spoke a minute with the little girl. I told her that we were planning on rescuing her. She replied that once she got back home, she wanted you, Vader, to finish reading her the Pegasus story."   
  
That convinced him.   
  
"He's on our side," Anakin told his strike team. "What's your ID number, sergeant?"   
  
"TK-259."   
  
"How many units in your battalion?"   
  
"Fifty."   
  
"Take thirty-five to the bridge and help those gathered there to stage a distraction. I'll take the rest with me."   
  
259 nodded. "Yes, sir."   
  
***   
  
Once again the convention center courtyard was packed, but this crowd was nearly three times as large as the Stellar-Con mob. Tents dotted the plaza, and eager convention-goers were settling in for an all-night bash. Some people had brought picnic dinners; others played Playstation, Xbox, or Game Cube games on television sets some fan had carted in. A midway of sorts, consisting of a hot dog vendor, an ice cream truck, and booths set up by the local fast food joints, did brisk business. Newscasters were also there, wading through the crowd and trying to keep fans from sticking their faces in the cameras and shouting things like "Hi, Mom!" Spirits were high and gazes were skyward, awaiting tonight's lunar eclipse.   
  
Sparky wheeled himself through the mess, followed by Piett and Lucas, the latter wearing a stormtrooper helmet to conceal his identity. The Elite's second-in-command longed to be as carefree as the other celebrants. But he couldn't relax his guard. Imperials could be anywhere.   
  
"This is certainly an unusual event for a lunar eclipse to occur just before a Star Wars convention," a tele-journalist was reporting into her camera lens. "This goes to show just how much the realms of science fiction and science fact overlap."   
  
/You don't know how right you are, lady/ Sparky thought.   
  
"Hey you!" shouted a Princess Leia wannabe. "Did anyone ever tell you you look like Admiral Piett?"   
  
Piett managed to crack a smile. "Actually, ma'am, you're the first."   
  
"Wow, you even sound like him!" she marveled. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were the actor who played him."   
  
"Isn't he dead?" asked Sparky.   
  
"I dunno," she replied. "He might be. He'd certainly look a lot older, wouldn't he? I mean, it's been twenty years..."   
  
"Yo Chandelle, wanna come play Rogue Squadron?!" someone shouted.   
  
"Gotta run, bye," she said hurriedly, running off.   
  
"Are all fans like that?" asked Piett.   
  
Lucas shook his head. "Usually they're much worse."   
  
At the "Brain Death Row," geeks in various stages of mental vegetation busily worked their thumbs as they battled droid armies, Sith warriors, armored stormtroopers, or enemy starfighters. Sparky pushed his wheelchair beside one gamer and tapped his shoulder.   
  
"Huh?" the guy grunted.   
  
"I don't think that's a Star Wars game," Sparky noted wryly.   
  
The gamer snickered. "Shh, don't tell anyone," he whispered before turning back to his "007 Goldeneye" game.   
  
Someone gasped, and hundreds of pairs of eyes rose toward the full moon. A shadow had nipped off a thin slice of the white-gold sphere, and that shadow was rapidly gulping up more of the orb.   
  
"The eclipse!" a kid in an Ewok costume exclaimed.   
  
A Jedi Padawan cocked his head. "That's the weirdest eclipse I've ever seen."   
  
Indeed -- what had begun as a shadow was rapidly becoming a sinister wedge-shaped silhouette.   
  
"Sacre bluer!" screamed Gabriel, gesturing wildly. "That's no moon! That's a Stardestroyer!"   
  
The gold-bandoliered stormtroopers accompanying Gabriel chattered frantically in French, then proceeded to spread the word throughout the crowd. The revelation swept through the masses like wildfire, and soon all the gathered Stargeeks were abuzz with shock and excitement. That awe became terror, however, when a familiar drone became audible.   
  
Everyone screamed and ducked as the horribly familiar forms of TIE fighters, Interceptors, and Bombers swooped low to buzz the crowd. None of the starfighters fired a shot. They didn't need to -- their mere presence was enough to induce hysteria. Security personnel who had arrived to monitor the gathering were hopelessly too few to control the mob. People bolted in all directions, and some were knocked down and trampled in the chaos.   
  
A single Interceptor roared to a hovering halt some ten feet from the courtyard ground. Bluish light poured from its underside as a specially mounted holoprojector generated a twenty-foot image of Emperor Palpatine.   
  
"Speak of the devil," breathed Lucas.   
  
"I thought they were one and the same," replied Sparky.   
  
The hologram raised a hand. "People of Earth."   
  
An eerie, hypnotic silence swept through the gathering. Despite his revulsion of the Sith monarch, Sparky felt an irresistible urge to listen. In the very back of his mind he realized he was in the throes of the dark side, but he was powerless to fight it.   
  
"Greetings. For centuries the Galactic Republic and, of late, the Galactic Empire have known of your existence. Because your culture is not yet ready for exposure to the galaxy, and because the space surrounding your planet is dangerous to travel, we have prevented contact between your society and ours. I believe the Empire has been gracious in doing this.   
  
"But now it appears a number of Earth citizens are involved in an act of terrorism against the Empire. As I speak, they and a band of Rebels seek to attack me. This is a mere annoyance that will be corrected shortly. But Earth has clearly meddled in affairs that are not theirs to interfere with. I cannot allow this to go unpunished.   
  
"I think it is a fitting penalty that your convention center be forfeit. For now, the punishment stands there. If anyone on this planet is found to be plotting against the Empire in the future, I will send the fleet to eliminate major cities around the globe." He gave a hideous smile. "You have sixty seconds to evacuate the area."   
  
The holo disappeared, and the Interceptor screamed upward to join the other ships in a halo formation around the convention building.   
  
"Everyone clear out!" the MC screamed.   
  
What came next was a scene straight out of "Independence Day." Many were trampled and injured in the crush of bodies as panicked Stargeeks frantically tried to flee. Tents were knocked down, video-game equipment and TV sets smashed and kicked around, abandoned food ground into the cobblestones, and other personal possessions crushed underfoot. The debris created an obstacle course, and several people tripped over the flotsam and were consequently stepped on. TV cameramen either fought against the living river to get footage of the bedlam or simply ditched their cameras and ran.   
  
Sparky couldn't push his wheelchair fast enough, and the litter tossed in his way was only making things worse. Someone grabbed the handles on the chair's back and began pushing him away, but before he could get a glimpse of his benefactor a deafening roar filled his ears.   
  
Something struck him in the head, and he lost interest in the action for awhile.   
  
Had he been conscious, he would have seen the Death Star gunner pushing the wheelchair go down, felled by raining flak. Dozens were wounded in the explosion, and acrid smoke and choking dust created a smothering fog. People staggered blindly, screaming in pain, terror, or both. Concrete pelted the streets and nearby businesses, parked cars, and anyone who had been unlucky enough to be at the hind end of the flight.   
  
For miles around, people stared in horror as a cluster of TIEs hung in the night sky, continuing to pour energy onto the convention center like a dragon spewing emerald fire. Throughout the world, millions watched, agape, as the event was broadcast planetwide.   
  
Higher in the sky, the Stardestroyer had moved away from the moon, and the actual eclipse was beginning. No one watched. No one cared.   
  
***   
  
/If I ever actually see the Emperor, I'll snap his sorry neck/ thought Lucas in anger as he groped through the haze. /In fact, if I even see an action figure or poster of him, I swear I'll rip it to pieces!/   
  
The blaster fire had finally ended, and the fading roar of ion engines signaled the TIE's departure. People were still screaming, but some had finally calmed down enough to plunge into the mess and pull out survivors. Lucas doubted anyone had been killed -- the center itself had been empty, and there had been enough time to get most of the fans far enough away. But there were still plenty of injuries, some minor, others severe.   
  
"George!" Piett called.   
  
Lucas ran toward the Admiral, pausing to step over a battered news camera. Piett had pulled Sparky out of his wheelchair and laid him on the ground. The Elite's second-in- command was unconscious and bleeding from a deep scalp cut, which Piett was trying to stem with a rag torn from his tunic.   
  
"Damn that Emperor," Piett hissed. "I knew he was callous, but this..." He swept his hand to indicate the wreckage around them.   
  
A little girl in a Queen Amidala dress was crying nearby, cradling a broken arm. Lucas held her still while a scouttrooper splinted the injury, then turned on his comm unit.   
  
"Ground to sky, we've just had an attack. Lots of injuries, Sparky among them, and the convention center's gone completely. No fatalities that I can see, but it's still pretty bad."   
  
Anakin uttered a volatile description of the Emperor's family tree before inquiring "How's Sparky?"   
  
"Out cold, nothing broken or ruptured. Looks a mess, but head wounds always bleed a lot."   
  
"Help the injured," Anakin ordered. "We'll go for the Emperor. Update us if, the Force forbid, anything else goes wrong."   
  
Lucas pocketed the comm and let paramedics take Sparky. He and Piett were going to be very busy. 


	27. Chosen One's Showdown

Chapter XXVII -- Chosen One's Showdown  
  
Anakin's strike team had penetrated the residential quarters of the Executor. They had been lucky enough to not encounter much resistance, and what troops they did meet were quickly mopped up by their recently acquired stormtrooper units. Now, with the Emperor's quarters almost in sight, they still had their entire force intact. He only hoped their good fortune would hold.   
  
"Royal Guards," whimpered Mike after taking a quick peek around the corner. "I hate those guys."   
  
"Shut up," hissed Luke.   
  
Anakin turned to the others. "Everyone remember the plan?"   
  
"Yep," Emily replied. "Liz goes out, gets the guards' attention, we pick 'em off as they chase her."   
  
"Very good." He motioned to Liz. "You're up."   
  
She stepped demurely around the corner, pumped three shots in the guards' direction, and bolted. There was much shouting as the scarlet-clad soldiers charged around the bend, only to face more blaster fire.   
  
Despite having been taken completely by surprise, the guards put up a good fight. Anakin suddenly found himself against three of them, his back to the wall. He struck at one, but the guard's genetically enhanced reflexes allowed him to evade the strike. Another swipe of his lightsaber connected, piercing the guard's chest, but not before his lance sliced into his shoulder just beneath the armor, igniting flames of agony down his arm and ribs.   
  
Grinding his teeth against the pain, he struck at the second guard. This one, too, dodged the strike, and would have evaded the second had a blast from Emily's shotgun not torn into his thigh. He staggered, and the scarlet lightsaber sheared the second guard apart from forehead to crotch.   
  
The last guard lunged forward in a move that should have run Anakin through, but he halted and stared blankly down at his chest, where a handspan of red-streaked metal protruded from the scarlet robes. He went down like a tent with its supports cut.   
  
Mike stood behind the fallen soldier, a stunned look on his face, still holding the blood- stained sword.   
  
"Thank you, Mike," Anakin told him, gripping his wound to halt the bleeding.   
  
"Wasn't me," he replied shakily. "I tripped over something and hit him..." Then he convulsed and turned away to vomit.   
  
By the time the skirmish was over, nine stormtroopers lay dead while another bled profusely from a stomach wound. Diana's cheek had been badly cut, and Matthews was bruising nicely where one guard had clobbered him. But considering the amount of genetic enhancement and grueling training Royal Guards underwent, they had all gotten off pretty lightly.   
  
"Where's Liz?" asked Matthews.   
  
"How should I know?" replied Emily.   
  
"She must have gotten turned around while coming back," Luke theorized.   
  
"Or captured," Diana put in.   
  
Anakin gestured to the hallway. "You go find her. I'll deal with the Emperor."   
  
"Father, let me come with you," Luke pleaded.   
  
He shook his head. "This is something I must do alone, son." He pointed at the stormtroopers. "I want the soldiers to wait outside the throne room. I'll send Rachel out, and you'll escort her to the others."   
  
"Yes sir," the wounded trooper replied, still standing despite his injury -- stormtroopers might not be bright, but they were notoriously tough. "Good luck, sir. May the Force be with you."   
  
Anakin went to the doors, and a nudge of the Force opened them.   
  
The Emperor strode back into the audience chamber, his dark robes billowing around him. He'd changed into his customary black hooded robe to record the threat to Earth, but he didn't bother switching to the formal Supreme Chancellor attire again. He had worn that to appear less malevolent before Rachel and to keep from scaring her. There would be no pretense now. No more velvet gloves for the child. She had overstayed her welcome.   
  
The girl sat on his throne, kicking her feet and playing with the buttons.   
  
"Who's there?" demanded the bridge officer when she keyed on the comm.   
  
"I wanna go home!" she said loudly.   
  
"Get off the line, kid!" the officer snapped.   
  
"You're a poopy-face!"   
  
"Well, you're a spoiled brat!"   
  
"And you're a mush-head!"   
  
"That's it! I resign! I didn't join the army to put up with this..."   
  
"Ever the tactful one, aren't you?" Palpatine noted dryly as he reached over and turned off the comm.   
  
"What's that mean?"   
  
"Never mind. Get out of my chair."   
  
She scrambled down from the throne. "I wanna go home!"   
  
"I'm sure you do," he replied. "But I have an alternative for you."   
  
"What's that mean?"   
  
"Another choice for you." He smiled broadly. "You have a wonderful opportunity, my child. A chance to do something no one on your world has ever done."   
  
"Drink milk and laugh without it coming out your nose?"   
  
"Not that. You, Rachel, are going to be my apprentice."   
  
A look of horror came over her face. "But you're really old!"   
  
"And what does that have to do with it?"   
  
"I'm not going to be your princess!"   
  
"No, not princess. Apprentice. It means student."   
  
"Oh, your Padawan!" Then she grimaced. "I don't wanna be your Padawan! I don't wanna be a Sith!"   
  
"Why not?"   
  
"'Cause they're bad guys!"   
  
"Rachel, what about Darth Vader? I know you like him."   
  
"Uh-huh. He reads me stories."   
  
"Well, he's a Sith, too. Which means, if all Sith are bad guys, as you call them, then he is too."   
  
"Nuh-uh! He's good! He's not a Sith!"   
  
"He is."   
  
"No he's not! He reads books to me and gave me a bath and he saved Mike and Cody and Amethyst from Mara Jade! He's nice!"   
  
"Rachel..."   
  
"And you're mean! You kill people and are mean to them! And you're mean to Vader and make him scared of you! You're mean and ugly and bad and I hope you wet your pants!"   
  
He strained to keep his rage under control, to avoid lashing out and doing something rash.   
  
She stamped into the middle of the throne room, turned back to the Emperor, and stuck her tongue out at him.   
  
That was the final straw.   
  
Rivers of blue-white lightning arced from his fingers toward the girl. In his fury everything but the child and his raging need for revenge was blotted from his mind. He barely had enough reason left to reduce the strike from a crippling blow to a mere punitive shock.   
  
When he didn't hear the expected screams, he reined in his anger and looked up to see Vader standing before Rachel, shielding her. The electricity from the Emperor's strike poured into the palm of his hand and streamed in all directions, boring smoking holes in durasteel plating where they touched the walls, floor, and ceiling. Snarling, he increased the assault, but Vader didn't budge. At last he lowered his hands, ceasing the attack.   
  
"Lord Vader," he sneered. "Back at last. And all I can say is it's about time."   
  
"I am not Vader," his former apprentice replied.   
  
Palpatine smiled wickedly. "And I suppose you think you can simply drop your past as easily as shedding your cloak and leave it behind? I knew you were a fool, Vader, but I didn't think you were brainless."   
  
The cyborg lifted his chin proudly. "I know who I am. I know my destiny. For twenty- four years I tried to deny it, but I cannot reject my heritage any more than you can reject your own skin. I do not expect to be able to entirely abandon my past as a servant of the dark side. I could never entirely discard the light side, either. But now I fully accept my title and my destiny." He ignited his lightsaber, bringing it up before his face so it eerily highlighted his jet-black mask in crimson light. "I am Anakin Skywalker, Jedi. I am Darth Vader, Sith. But above all, I am the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force.   
  
"And you know that, Emperor Palpatine, also known as Lord Darth Sidious. That is why you hate me. That is why you sought to turn me to the dark side. You knew the Chosen One's ultimate destiny would be to destroy the Sith Order. But converting me proved to be your undoing. For the Chosen One must know both sides of the Force to accomplish his destiny. The light, so he may know compassion, honor, and loyalty. The dark, so he may know dedication, power, and focus. The light, so he may know HOW to fight the dark side, and the dark, so he may know WHY he must fight the dark side.   
  
"You helped me, former master, to fulfill my destiny. For that I thank you. For all else, I hope you burn in the Hell of your own making."   
  
Deep in his bowels, an emotion Palpatine had thought to be long dead reawakened and claimed him in its coils. For the first time in decades, he experienced fear -- a wild, mortal fear that clawed at the walls of his stomach.   
  
But he showed no sign of it as he grinned at his foe.   
  
"Very well, Anakin." His tone made the name a vulgar expletive. "We'll see how a Chosen One works his precious balance when he's dead on the floor." And he ignited his own scarlet weapon.   
  
"Run, Rachel!" Anakin cried. "The men outside will take you to your parents!"   
  
The child ran out of the room. She didn't concern him. If his guards didn't catch her first, stormtroopers would. But Anakin Skywalker was his.   
  
Their blades met with a hissing crack, and the impact resounded in the Force like the ringing of a massive gong as the mortal conflict between darkness and light began.   
  
/Why do these big Imperial ships have so many stinking hallways?/ Liz fumed. She should have run into the others ages ago. There were no two ways about it -- she was lost.   
  
/Was it this corner?/ she wondered, peering around a bend. It looked the same as every other turn she had encountered. Suddenly a stormtrooper rounded the corner and spotted her. Before he could squeeze off a shot, she fired and killed him. A second one appeared and she had to take him out as well. Soon it felt like some warped carnival game, with trooper after trooper coming out single-file and her downing each one as if she were shooting fish in a barrel.   
  
Finally the line of troopers ended, and she began to proceed in the other direction.   
  
A sharp sting left her entire right arm numb, and her rifle slid from her hands and clattered to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it with her left hand, but a smirking officer came around the bend and leveled his own weapon at her.   
  
"Stupid Earth beings," he said, clicking his tongue in reproach as his finger tightened on the trigger.   
  
She sucked in her breath and tried in vain to manage the rifle with only her left arm, all the while praying in Hebrew.   
  
A minute glint of metal appeared quite suddenly on the officer's neck. He opened his mouth in a bewildered look and collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Relieved, Liz squinted at the dead man's throat. The metallic fleck turned out to be a saberdart.   
  
From another doorway stepped a man in Mandalorian armor.   
  
"The name is Fett," he announced. "Boba Fett."   
  
She wanted to cry in relief and scream in anger at the same time, but settled for hugging him.   
  
"What took you so damned long?" she demanded.   
  
"TIEs in the sector," he replied, returning the embrace. "Not to worry. The Slave can't be shot down by mere Imperial fighters."   
  
"I'm surprised you're here at all, Mr. Neutral."   
  
"You don't expect me to leave Area 51 without collecting my reward from Vader, do you?" he inquired wryly.   
  
"It's Anakin now, bucko. Get it right."   
  
"Ah."   
  
"Freeze, you Rebel scum!"   
  
A squadron of stormtroopers emerged from around a corner and leveled their blasters at the pair. Liz and Fett bent down as if they were about to put their weapons on the floor, then made eye contact.   
  
"I love you," Fett chuckled.   
  
"I know," she grinned.   
  
Then they promptly stood back up and opened fire. The stormtroopers returned fire, displaying their famed lousy aim. Within seconds Liz and Fett were the last two standing.   
  
"You're not a bad shot," he commented. "You should come on hunts with me."   
  
"Is that a promise or a threat?"   
  
He hooked an arm around her waist. "Liz Djedovich, will you marry me?"   
  
She laughed. "I'll think about it, flyboy."   
  
"I hate to interrupt this, lovebirds, but we've got a battle to fight," Emily announced, rounding the bend. "Looks like you've seen some action."   
  
"Have you found the girl?" inquired Fett.   
  
"Anakin's taking care of that," Matthews replied.   
  
Fett cocked his blaster again. "More stormtroopers," he growled.   
  
"No, they're on our side!" Luke exclaimed.   
  
The six black-sashed stormtroopers entered their stretch of hallway, escorting Rachel, who looked as if she'd seen a ghost.   
  
"Mommy! Daddy!" she cried, breaking into a run.   
  
"Sweetie!" Conrad breathed, taking her up in his arms. "Oh, we were so frightened!"   
  
"My baby!" cried Diana, embracing her daughter once Conrad had let go of her.   
  
"Mommy, stormtroopers grabbed me and took me on a big ship!" she exclaimed. "I sat in a dungeon with Trapper and those guys in red -- what are they called?"   
  
"Royal Guards," Emily told him.   
  
"Royal Guards took me to the bad Emperor, and he wanted me to be a Sith Prin-tiss! But he got mad and tried to shock me, but Vader stopped him and they started fighting!"   
  
Luke motioned for everyone to follow him. "Come on! Let's go help him!" 


	28. Countdown

Chapter XXVIII - Countdown  
  
On the bridge, chaos had erupted.   
  
The Imperials were in a panic, apparently not used to being fired upon by their own men. Many of the stormtrooper turncoats had died in the assault, and members of the original strike team had been grazed and burned. Laser fire filled the air, blackening walls, charring computer boards, and felling stormtroopers and technicians. The officers, being the cowards they were, had long since fled save a badly injured ensign who'd taken a shot in the back. All in all, it was a wonder the strike team had survived this long.   
  
"Wish we had some kind of backup," remarked Leia as she pushed a dead technician out of his chair and read his screen. "They have coordinates here for Earth's major cities. They're planning an invasion!"   
  
"That's nice to know," mumbled Jason sarcastically, ducking behind the console to fire at his pursuer.   
  
Han was at a comm unit, trying to convince the other officers on board that it wasn't necessary to send reinforcements for the Imperials. The background noise probably wasn't helping to make his transmission sound authentic.   
  
Three stormtroopers were setting up a small tripod cannon in an effort to deal with the Rebels collectively. Patrick pointed this out to Sergeant 259, and the two of them charged, firing. Immediately two of the stormtroopers raised their weapons while the third readied the cannon.   
  
A wild shot from Patrick's gun struck the cannon, and the weapon exploded. The detonation caused a brief pause in the action as everyone turned to witness the spectacle.   
  
"Patrick!" screamed Jason, running.   
  
The three stormtroopers had been killed instantly, and Sergeant 259 was grievously burned. Patrick's wounds were less extensive, but he was still in a great deal of pain. The battle resumed even as Jason and Li pulled the two wounded men to relative safety.   
  
Amethyst screamed and sank to the floor, her right leg smoking in three places. A trooper grabbed her arms and tried to force them behind her, but she savagely bit his hand. Austin threw her attacker aside, scooped her up, and carried her to a hallway out of harm's way. Chewie soon came into the hallway as well, holding Zack.   
  
"I'm not hurt!" Zack was insisting. "Really! I feel fine! Ow!" He winced as his energetic gesturing stretched the burned flesh on his chest.   
  
"That needs cleaning up bad," Austin told him as Chewie dropped him beside Amethyst on the floor.   
  
Chewie barked something.   
  
"I don't speak Wookie," Austin protested.   
  
Chewie gestured for Austin to go back onto the bridge. He indicated that he would watch over Amethyst and Zack. Austin nodded and picked up his gun.   
  
"Something's coming!" hissed Zack, whipping out his blaster. "More stormies! They won't mess with Zachary Brown, let me tell you!"   
  
Amethyst, Austin, and Chewie also pointed their weapons down the corridor. A faint whirr became more audible as the intruder approached them. Austin took aim and prepared to shoot as, wheeling around the bend, came... a droid the size of a Radio Flyer wagon overflowing with dirty laundry.   
  
Chewie belted out a roaring laugh.   
  
"Your killer stormies, Rambo?" inquired Amethyst.   
  
"Drop dead," Zack replied.   
  
Austin opened his mouth to order them to shut up, but the clothing inside the droid abruptly heaved. Everyone again leveled their weapons at the machine. Was this some kind of ambush?   
  
"Dad?"   
  
Trapper? It couldn't be. But the head emerging from the laundry droid's interior could belong to no other boy. His vision fogged over as the boy scrambled out of the droid and ran toward him, and he fell to his knees and embraced his son.   
  
"Dad!" he cried. "They were gonna kill me!"   
  
"I know," Austin choked. "I know... oh, Trapper! I was so afraid you were dead!"   
  
"That lying, back-stabbing, scum-eating, rotten-toothed, pasty-faced, red-eyed, psychotic, electronic, monk-wannabe, no-good piece of pig refuse!" Amethyst hissed.   
  
"And he's evil, too," Zack added.   
  
"Shut up."   
  
"Dad, look out!" Trapper shouted.   
  
Stormtrooper TK-688 had approached, his armor dark with carbon scoring.   
  
"It's all right, Trapper," Austin told him. "Any stormtroopers with black sashes are on our side."   
  
"All opposition cleared, sir," 688 reported. "Three surviving stormtroopers, one injured and in critical condition, one civilian in serious condition." He glanced at Trapper. "Is this the boy captive? I had heard he'd escaped, but I had thought they had tracked him down and eliminated him already."   
  
"Hey, stormtroopers are dumb," Trapper replied as he picked up Amethyst's spare gun. "No offense."   
  
"Now just a minute..." protested 688.   
  
"Oh, let him have the blaster!" Austin replied. "I'd rather he did at this point. Right now it's the lesser of two evils."   
  
Trapper was soon able to put his blaster to good use, for a group of enemy reinforcements had arrived. The six of them opened fire, but it was clear they were outnumbered.   
  
"Take the injured and go back to the bridge," 688 ordered.   
  
"How are you gonna..." began Amethyst.   
  
"Just go!"   
  
Austin scooped Amethyst up, trying not to jostle her leg, and ran. Chewie, hauling Zack over his shoulder in a fireman carry, followed, with Trapper just at the Wookie's heels.   
  
Behind them, TK-688 ripped the thermal detonator from his belt, activated it, and held it over his head.   
  
"Watch out!" one stormtrooper cried. "He has a -- "   
  
The shock wave from the explosion nearly knocked Austin off his feet. He felt the heat of the blast at his back, as well as tiny pieces of shrapnel whose origins Austin tried not to consider. A mangled stormtrooper helmet skittered past, propelled by the explosion. 688 had given his life to eliminate the threat.   
  
"Oh man, we missed the action!" lamented Zack.   
  
The battle on the Executor's bridge had left all Imperials dead. Now the Elite was busy tending to the wounded. Liberty had located an Imperial medkit and was able to treat the minor cuts and burns, but Amethyst, Zack, Patrick, and 259 would need a professional doctor to look over their wounds. Only one stormtrooper, TK-577, was still standing.   
  
"Trapper!" cried Liberty, throwing her arms around him.   
  
"He's alive!" screamed Cody. "Hallelujah!"   
  
Trapper, who had just achieved celebrity status, made the rounds among the strike team while Austin laid Amethyst down beside Patrick.   
  
"Patrick, Sergeant, hang tight," Austin told them. "We'll get you help as soon as we can."   
  
"Too late..." gasped 259. "Mortal wounds..."   
  
"Be optimistic," Austin said. "American doctors are some of the best on our planet, even if bacta technology's ahead of our time."   
  
259 reached up and gripped Austin's hand. "Fought too long... for the wrong reasons... least I died... doing something right..." He coughed noisily, then groaned with pain. "Sorry about your son..."   
  
"He escaped," Austin replied. "He's okay now."   
  
259 chuckled and moaned again. "Good boy... got a good mind... hope he... makes you proud..." He took a shuddering breath and was still.   
  
Austin squeezed the sergeant's hand until it went limp, then laid both his arms over his burned chest.   
  
"I never thought I'd cry over the death of a stormtrooper," he murmured.   
  
"Someone find something flat to use as a stretcher!" Leia ordered. "More than one, if you can!"   
  
"Found something!" Brigham replied, prying a loose floor panel up.   
  
"That'll work," replied Leia. "Get Patrick on it, then get two more for Zack and Amethyst if you can."   
  
Liberty grasped a crossbow bolt that had landed in a computer screen and wrenched it free. "Wanna help me collect my arrows, Austin? I'm a cheapskate, and these things are expensive."   
  
Austin joined her in her search, his stomach churning as he stepped over bodies. Liberty hadn't been kidding when she'd said she was a crack shot. He had thought arrows would be useless against stormtrooper armor, but she had downed several by aiming for the neck or the patch under the arm that wasn't covered by plating.   
  
"Um, Lib, did you mean to do this?" he asked, pointing to a computer console. A crossbow bolt jutted from the plasteel, smoke curling out around the shaft.   
  
"No, that was a wild shot," she replied. "Why?"   
  
577 came over and examined the panel.   
  
"Five minutes forty-five seconds remaining," he noted. "This is bad. Liberty's just hit the self-destruct mechanism's activation switch. The emergency deactivation switch is damaged, too. The Executor's going to blow."   
  
That caught everyone's attention.   
  
"We're in deep , aren't we?" asked Steve.   
  
"All in favor in getting the hell off this ship say 'aye,'" suggested Li.   
  
"Aye!" everyone shouted, and everyone ran, pausing only to retrieve their wounded.   
  
Anakin felt surprisingly calm as he parried the Emperor's blows. He felt no fear, no anger, no rush of adrenaline -- only a strange serenity. He was the vortex of the cyclone, the island in the turbulent seas, the pillar of strength against the winds of darkness.   
  
/Let the Force guide you./ Obi-wan's fencing lecture played in his head like a chant. /If you allow it to govern your actions, you will stand strong against your adversary. You are a vessel of the Force, the calm of the battle's heat, the eye of the storm./   
  
If only Obi-wan could see him now. His upstart, hard-nosed apprentice had finally taken his master's lessons to heart. Even against the fury of the Emperor, he was steady and calm.   
  
Palpatine stabbed forward, trying to impale Anakin on his weapon. He knocked the lunge aside and made an attack of his own, feinting for the legs, then slashing at the chest. The Emperor laughed haughtily as he parried the blow.   
  
"Is that the best you can do, Anakin?" he taunted, then screamed as a third strike sliced across his hip in a glancing blow.   
  
"Obviously not," Anakin noted dryly.   
  
Their weapons locked, and they regarded each other over the crossed sabers, Palpatine with contemptuous hatred, Anakin with a detached amusement.   
  
"You always thought yourself superior, Anakin, even as a Jedi. You could never be content with what your mentors gave you. You always needed more power, more control. You could never accept the role of apprentice. Well, today you are still the apprentice. I am the master."   
  
"Only a master of evil, Palpatine," Anakin replied.   
  
That only fueled his anger, and he delivered a flurry of blows that had Anakin pinned against the wall. His rotted teeth were fixed in a grin of malevolent elation as he swept in for the killing strike. Anakin smiled himself -- the Emperor had acted according to plan. He held his ground until the last possible moment, then whirled to the side as Palpatine's saber bit deep into the wall. A slab of molten durasteel buckled in a shower of sparks, leaving an impromptu doorway to the adjoining hallway.   
  
Anakin darted past the startled Emperor and through the doorway. An officer and two TIE pilots stared in amazed terror as Palpatine followed and the clash of lightsabers resumed. Flashes of ruby light illuminated the hallway in an eerie glow.   
  
"Five hundred credits on Vader," one TIE pilot whispered.   
  
"You're on," the second pilot shot back.   
  
Anakin noted that the Emperor was sweating profusely and breathing hard. Despite his control of the dark side, the monarch was not immune to the ravages of time. He was rather old, and being elderly he tired quickly. If Anakin could just hold out a while longer, his foe might exhaust himself enough to make a fatal mistake.   
  
A mysterious wind tugged at his cape, and he pressed out with the Force to feel the chasm of the Executor's reactor shaft close behind him.   
  
"Frightened yet, Anakin?" sneered Palpatine.   
  
"You wish," Anakin smirked.   
  
"You fool," Palpatine went on disdainfully. "Had you remained loyal to me, you could have ruled the galaxy in my stead. But you decided to grow a conscious and turn away from the dark side -- all for the sake of twin brats you never knew. I hope you think it was worth it, sacrificing the strength of the darkness for the weak idealism of the light."   
  
"You know you can't win," Anakin replied. "Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."   
  
With a scream Palpatine attacked again, driving him back. In dodging a blow Anakin struck the doorway leading to the shaft, and the collision reopened the wound on his shoulder. He put away the pain and concentrated on the battle.   
  
/A little farther/ he thought, edging away from the Emperor. /Just a little farther.../   
  
His heel struck the edge of the pit, and for a brief moment he lost his balance. Palpatine took advantage of that fraction of a second to strike at Anakin's weapon with all his strength. The blow knocked the lightsaber from his hands and sent it spiraling down the chasm.   
  
"Anakin Skywalker, Chosen One, meet your doom," Palpatine snarled. "I have won." And he put all his strength behind that fatal swing.   
  
A laugh of triumph burst from Anakin's lips. "No. You have lost."   
  
Before the saber could connect Anakin flung himself backward, over the lip of the reactor pit and into empty space. The Emperor completed the swing without striking anything, went off-balance, and fell after him with a scream of combined rage and horror.   
  
Anakin's plan had gone without a hitch.   
  
"Why don't men from any planet ask for directions?" demanded Emily as the party took what had to be yet another wrong turn.   
  
"I've been on Anakin's Stardestroyer before," Fett insisted. "The audience chamber is right this way."   
  
"But I actually looked at the readout," Luke shot back. "It should be the other way."   
  
"Uh-oh, another dead end," Matthews noted as their path terminated at the edge of the reactor pit.   
  
"Well, we'll just have to turn around and try another way," Conrad said.   
  
"And get even more lost?" Liz snapped. "By the time we get to Anakin, the Emperor would have cut him into a lace doily!"   
  
"Excuse me, but you didn't exactly find your way back to the throne room in a jiffy," Conrad shot back.   
  
"You're a fine one to be mouthing off, Mr. I-know-exactly-where-the-Denver-exit-is-so- what-are-we-doing-in-Wyoming!"   
  
"That was a long time ago!"   
  
"Two years isn't that long a time..."   
  
"Shut up!" ordered Diana. "Arguing isn't going to get us any closer to Anakin..."   
  
Rachel's mouth formed an O of astonishment. "Lookit! Lookit!" She pointed up to a doorway on the opposite side of the pit. "There they are!"   
  
Luke's eyes went wide. "That's them all right!"   
  
Red sabers clashed as Anakin and Palpatine faced off. Anakin was an excellent fighter, but Palpatine fought with the energy and strength of a crazed, desperate man. With a savage blow, Anakin's weapon went spinning into the shaft.   
  
"NO!" cried Luke.   
  
"I can't look, I can't look, I can't look..." whimpered Mike, hands over his eyes.   
  
As the party watched in terrified anticipation, the Emperor lashed out to slice Anakin in two -- but missed. Anakin had fallen into the chasm, and with a piercing cry Palpatine plunged in after him.   
  
"Do something!" a stormtrooper shouted.   
  
"What are we supposed to do, sprout wings and fly to him?" Emily demanded.   
  
Fett lifted his arm, hand on the grappling-hook launcher. "I don't believe in the Force, I don't believe in God, and I don't believe in fate. But if any or all of them exist, please let them help me make this shot!" He fired.   
  
The Emperor clutched his lightsaber as he fell, face contorted in deadly rage. Even as he tumbled to his death he wanted Anakin's blood. Anakin didn't care. He had accomplished the prophecy. The last Sith was plunging to his doom. The Chosen One had brought balance to the Force and could now die in peace.   
  
/Thank you, Luke, for helping me back to the light./ He smiled at the thought of his son, now a Jedi, restoring the Order to its former glory. That was his one regret -- that he had had only a few precious weeks with his children before his death. The past month and a half had been a wonderful, heart-rending yet heart-healing time of forgiveness and reunion, but that time had been far too short. He could take some comfort, however, in the fact that he could probably visit his children from beyond the veil.   
  
A slender, metallic line streaked through the air. A fibercord! Perhaps the game was not yet over.   
  
He drew the cord to him with the Force, wrapping it securely around his wrists. As the Emperor fell past him, lashing out with his saber, Anakin brutally shoved him away. The Sith Lord's cries of fury and terror trailed down the chasm after him.   
  
Abruptly the line went taut, and he found himself hurtling toward the wall of the shaft at an uncomfortable speed.   
  
/Sithspawn, this is going to hurt./   
  
He blacked out on impact.   
  
"He caught it!" cried Emily.   
  
"Um, has anyone taken into account the fact that Anakin is mostly metal and probably weighs a good deal, and he's falling pretty fast?" asked Matthews.   
  
After a split second of consideration, everyone clung to Fett to keep him from being yanked over the edge. Even so, the jerk of the line nearly dragged them all in anyway. Fett screamed as his arm took the sudden strain, tearing muscles and tendons, breaking bones, and wrenching every joint in his arm.   
  
Luke grabbed the fibercord, and together everyone managed to haul Anakin out of the shaft.   
  
"He's out cold," Diana observed, rolling him onto his back. "Better splint Fett's arm while we wait for Anakin to come to."   
  
Fett had been injured countless times, more often seriously than not, so he was by no means a wimp. Even so, he moaned in agony as Matthews and Emily strapped a stormtrooper's shin guard to his arm to keep the limb immobilized. Fibercord served as a makeshift sling.   
  
"You've gotta see a doctor once we reach Earth," Conrad told him.   
  
"Hey, I think he moved!" Mike shouted, pointing to Anakin.   
  
When Anakin opened his eyes, he wondered if he was dreaming. Everything around him seemed so much clearer, as if he were looking upon it with his own flesh-and-blood eyes, without holographic enhancements. He raised his right hand -- which no longer seemed to be mechanical -- and gingerly touched his face. Instead of durasteel, he touched the skin of his cheek. Startled, he sat up.   
  
He was in an open area, like a plain. It didn't resemble the grasslands of Naboo. Come to think of it, it didn't appear to resemble the praries of Corellia or the savannahs of Dantooine either. If anything, it seemed to be a combination of all worlds.   
  
Curious, he stood and began to walk around, noting that his legs, too, had been restored. What in the galaxy was going on? Where was he? Where were the others?   
  
The grass rustled behind him, and he whirled to face a dark man with a scarred face and an easy smile.   
  
"Jango?" he said in disbelief, and he was surprised when his voice came out naturally, lacking the metallic accent of the synthesizer.   
  
"Guilty as charged," Jango replied with a chuckle.   
  
"But you're..." he began, his voice trailing off as he realized what had happened. "I'm dead?"   
  
"No, Anakin. Unconscious. Briefly permitted to enter the realm of the Force. It is the only way you may visit those deceased who are not Jedi and so cannot pass through the veil." He motioned him away. "Come. There are those you must meet."   
  
He followed Jango. The landscape became drier, sandy and rocky, almost like Tatooine or Geonosis. Strangely enough, he felt almost at home here.   
  
"Ani?"   
  
He halted in his tracks, tears springing forth. For the woman approaching him, grinning broadly, arms extended, was his mother. Shmi Skywalker Lars, his sole parent, the woman who had striven to teach him kindness and generosity... the woman who had died in his arms, driving him to grief and the dark side.   
  
"Mom," he choked, falling into her arms. Waves of shame inudated him as he sobbed against her. "Mother, I'm so sorry. I wanted to make you proud of me, but I failed you."   
  
"My son," she breathed, stroking his cheek as she had so often when he was a small boy. "You have no reason to be sorry."   
  
"But... I did so many horrible things. I promised I'd come free you, and I never did. I became a Sith..."   
  
"Oh, Ani," she interrupted. "You did all you could to help me. You brought balance to the Force, and I'm so proud of you for that."   
  
"We all are," an aged man added, stepping up with his wife at his side.   
  
"Owen!" he cried, recognizing the man. "And Beru!"   
  
"You and your son -- my nephew -- have done us proud," Owen went on. "I wish we'd gotten to know you better, but all I can say is you did well."   
  
"I always knew Luke would follow in your footsteps," Beru added. "It was just a matter of time."   
  
"And knowing which of my footsteps to follow," Anakin replied.   
  
"That's true," Owen acknowledged.   
  
"Ani!" Amphibious arms grabbed him in a wild embrace. "Mees'n so smilin' to be seein' yousa!"   
  
"Good to see you again, Jar Jar," Anakin replied, prying the Gungan's arms off.   
  
"Yous'n do bombad!" Jar Jar babbled. "An' yous'n son, too. Mees'n bustin' wit' happiness to be seein' him an' my daughter in Rogue Squadron..."   
  
"Wait a minute," interrupted Anakin. "You have a daughter?"   
  
"Cleiko Binks, but hers'n mother be callin' her Trigger, 'cause'n she be good shot wit' a blaster," Jar Jar explained. "Mees'n be missin' her bombad."   
  
"If I ever see her, I'll tell her I met you," Anakin replied.   
  
Jar Jar grinned. "Thanks muy muy, Ani!"   
  
Shmi smiled, and she stepped aside as another figure approached, still as radiant as she had been over twenty-four years ago when he saw her last.   
  
"Padme," he breathed.   
  
She ran to him. "Anakin!"   
  
They embraced, crying. He kissed her passionatley, reveling in the feel of her against him, never minding the eyes of the others.   
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had to hide the children to protect them. I'm so sorry. You should have known..."   
  
"I don't hold it against you, my love," he replied gently. "Had I known, the Emperor would have found out and quite possibly destroyed them."   
  
"Oh Anakin," she sighed, burying her face in his shoulder. "I love you."   
  
"And I you."   
  
"Anakin." Jango's voice broke up the happy reunion. "It's time to go."   
  
"What?" He whirled to face the hunter. "But I just got here!"   
  
"I said it would be brief, didn't I?" Jango replied. "The living can only remain here a short time. The Force has been generous enough as it is."   
  
Anakin turned back to his family. "Will I ever see you again?"   
  
"Soon enough, Anakin," Padme told him. "You're time is not yet up. There is still much for you to do. But we'll be together again soon."   
  
He embraced Padme one last time. "I love you. I'll miss you all very much." Even as he spoke those around him began to fade.   
  
"May the Force be with you," Owen said.   
  
"One last thing," Jango added, his voice becoming hollow as he went transparent. "When you wake up, tell my son I'm very proud of him. And to quit his wallowing."   
  
"Lord Vader?"   
  
He blinked, and in that split second his eyes were shut the scene of his deceased friends and family was wiped away. In their place were the concerned faces of Luke, Rachel, and a single stormtrooper.   
  
"Are you okay?" asked Luke. "You were saying something about Jar Jar."   
  
He sat up with a groan. "I'm fine."   
  
"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Matthews, holding up a hand.   
  
"What am I, stupid?" asked Anakin.   
  
"He was just checking for double vision," said Diana.   
  
"Yay, he's okay!" Rachel squealed, throwing her arms around him.   
  
"Ouch! Watch the shoulder!"   
  
"You got an owie!" she noted, spotting the gouge. "I'll kiss it better."   
  
A siren began blaring, and a monotone voice sounded.   
  
"Self-destruct mechanism activated. Five minutes to detonation."   
  
"Self-destruct?" shrieked Liz. "What the hell were the others thinking?!"   
  
"Can we shut it off?" asked Conrad.   
  
"It's risky, but perhaps we can," Anakin replied. "Follow me to the bridge." 


	29. Under Arrest

Chapter XXIX - Under Arrest  
  
The two strike teams collided at the doorway to the bridge. While Anakin and his team were trying to get in, the second group was trying their hardest to get out.   
  
"Where are you going?" demanded Brigham. "This puppy's gonna blow any minute!"   
  
"I'm here to prevent that," Anakin replied. "Where's Artoo?"   
  
The astromech beeped his willingness to help and made his way to the self-destruct mechanism. Anakin threw open a panel and studied the wiring.   
  
"Well?" demanded Liz.   
  
"Give me a minute," he replied. "I think I can deactivate it, but the only method I know to bypass the broken switch takes at least five minutes. The mechanism goes off in three."   
  
"I say we evacuate," Mike suggested, heading for the door.   
  
Artoo plugged himself into a computer outlet, humming to himself as he reviewed the Executor's computer. After a minute he whistled something to Anakin.   
  
"Thanks," he replied, ripping a wire out of its socket. "Artoo's found a shortcut!"   
  
Everyone held their breath as, with guidance from Artoo, Anakin rerouted the computer circuits. Red numerals on the display counted down the seconds as the two of them worked furiously against the clock.   
  
"Why are we trying to save this hulk in the first place?" asked Emily. "It makes more sense to just get off."   
  
"The bond between a man and his ship is not one to be taken lightly," Han replied.   
  
"Thirty seconds remaining!" shrieked Cody.   
  
"We didn't need to know that!" barked Li.   
  
There was a loud click from the console, and the numbers froze at 0:25 and disappeared. Anakin sighed deeply and shut the panel.   
  
"Back to Star City," he announced. "I'd like the remaining stormtroopers to inform all on board that the Executor is officially an Alliance ship, and any men who will not join the Alliance are to be imprisoned."   
  
"Yes, sir," TK-577 replied, and he and the others marched briskly away.   
  
"That was close," panted Conrad.   
  
"No, that was idiotic!" Fett snapped. "We should've just evacuated!"   
  
"This ship has been my home for twenty years," Anakin replied coolly. "She's a magnificent vessel, and I'm not about to let her go down in flames. You feel much the same way about your own ship, do you not?"   
  
Fett grumbled under his breath but didn't argue.   
  
Artoo tootled merrily.   
  
"Yes, you saved the day," Luke huffed. "And I'm sure we're going to hear about it every day for the rest of our lives."   
  
The main passenger hold of the Falcon had been turned into a makeshift medical bay. Amethyst's leg had been swathed in bacta wraps and splinted to keep her from further stressing the burned tissues. Zack was making a dramatic production of his wounds, though everyone agreed the burns weren't deep enough to be life-threatening. Fett helped Anakin and Jason tend to Patrick's wounds with his good arm.   
  
"I'm surprised to see you, Fett," Anakin remarked as he smoothed bacta gel onto a neck wound. "I thought you had no desire to get involved in the Civil War."   
  
Fett shrugged, hissing as the injudicious movement pulled injured sinews in his arm. "You promised me a reward. I don't intend to leave this world until I receive it."   
  
"Right," Anakin remarked with a knowing nod. "By the way, I have a message for you."   
  
"From whom?" asked Fett.   
  
"Jango Fett."   
  
He looked up from applying a bandage, startled.   
  
"He's very proud of you," he went on. "But he wants you to quit wallowing in the past."   
  
The hunter nodded slowly. "When did you see him? Was it a vision?"   
  
"Patrick!" screamed Jason. "He's not breathing!"   
  
Anakin grabbed Patrick's wrist to make certain he still had a pulse. "He's in deep shock. Jason, start rescue breathing! Fett, tell Han to contact Lucas and have an ambulance ready on landing!"   
  
Fett ran for the cockpit while Jason tipped his brother's head back and clamped his mouth over his.   
  
Anakin delved into the Force, feeling Patrick's wounds, judging their severity. The burns themselves wouldn't kill him, but the shock would if nothing was done to correct it. He slipped deeper into meditation, becoming one with Patrick's life Force.   
  
Patrick's heart was pumping blood to his extremities, trying to keep tissues in the limbs alive. But his internal organs weren't receiving the supply they desperately needed and were shutting down. Anakin sought to correct this, adjusting the blood flow to his vital systems. Sweat beaded on his forehead -- healing was not a task Jedi undertook lightly.   
  
Patrick's chest gave a sudden heave, and Jason turned him quickly on his side as he vomited. He took a few deep breaths, then opened his eyes.   
  
"That was weird," he commented before passing out again.   
  
Anakin lowered Patrick's hand as weakness swept through him. "Keep him warm and elevate his feet. That should prevent a second occurrence. He can't go into shock again."   
  
"Thanks, Anakin," Jason said gratefully.   
  
"Star City dead ahead!" called Han. "I'm landing now. Stang, what happened here? Looks like a bombing site!"   
  
The citizens of Star City watched in awe as the Millennium Falcon touched down in the convention center plaza. Firefighters and construction workers were beginning the laborious process of cleaning up debris, and yellow police tape kept curious passerby away from the ruins. The morning light shone upon still-smoking rubble, the filthy blackened fountain, and dazed fans who shuffled about aimlessly as if lost. A trio of ambulances and a news crew awaited the Falcon's passengers.   
  
"Get lost!" Liz ordered the newscaster who got in her face. "We've got casualties here! Where's the EMTs when you need them?"   
  
Paramedics boarded the ship, bringing out the injured on stretchers. Upon seeing Anakin and Diana's injuries, they asked that they accompany them to the hospital for treatment.   
  
As the ambulances streaked away, sirens blaring, the rest of the Elite surveyed the damage done to the convention center. The Paris France Outpost of the 501st stood solemnly before the ruined building, heads bowed as if they were attending a funeral. A Rebel trooper cradled a chrome-plated chunk of one of the spires in his lap, turning it over in his hands. A Fett impersonator was arguing with a newscaster, while a female Jedi sat on the edge of the fountain and wept, absently running her fingers through the stagnant, ash-filled water.   
  
"If Palpatine weren't already dead, I'd kill him for this," hissed Darcy.   
  
"It's a shame," Li said. "It was a beautiful building."   
  
"What are all the fans going to do without a convention center?" asked Han.   
  
"I don't know," replied Austin. "I just don't know."   
  
After a moment's reflection, they walked away. A bus would be by soon, and they could hitch a ride to the hospital.   
  
Ten minutes later, a second ship touched down next to the Falcon. Immediately the media besieged it, climbing the landing ramp and swarming about the entrance. Guards had to force the crowds back to allow Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Commander Wedge Antilles, Commander-in-Chief Trigger, and Captain Dzi to disembark.   
  
"This is madness," noted Ackbar.   
  
"They probably haven't had much experience with off-worlders," Wedge replied. "Cut them some slack."   
  
"Madam Mothma, what brings you to Earth?" a newsman asked.   
  
"What's being done about the Empire?" a journalist demanded.   
  
"I'm with the Free Press," another reporter informed her. "Will the Alliance help rebuild Star City's convention center and repair surrounding businesses?"   
  
"Back off!" shouted a guard.   
  
"We cannot anssswer quesssstionssss at thisssss time," Dzi answered. "We are looking for Lord Darth Vader, who isssss currently on your planet."   
  
"If anyone has information regarding him, we'd be most grateful," Mothma added.   
  
"He's at the Star City Medical Center getting his shoulder stitched," a Padme Amidala impersonator offered. "I'm a bus driver. I can take you there."   
  
"Thank you, ma'am."   
  
As the Alliance guards cleared a path for Mothma, she and her company piled into the vehicle. Just as Dzi was about to slither aboard, a teenager in Sith robes approached him.   
  
"Hey, didn't I see you on 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?'" he asked.   
  
Dzi regarded him blankly. "Not likely, sssssir," he replied before boarding the bus.   
  
The fake Sith gaped. "Holy Sith spit, I'm a Parselmouth!"   
  
"Yeesh, this bird is dry," grumped Amethyst, throwing her turkey sandwich back onto her tray. "Haven't these folks heard of basting?"   
  
The Elite had gathered once again in the cafeteria of the local hospital, eating lunch and carrying on about their latest adventure. Lucas, Piett, and Sparky had rejoined them, Sparky with a gauze bandage taped to his forehead to cover his stitches. Amethyst wore a cast on her leg, and Zack had his shirt off and was bragging about how he had gotten his wound, which was invisible beneath a cocoon of white gauze. Fett's arm hung in a sling, a condition he didn't appear to be too happy about. Everyone else had gotten off pretty lightly, with a handful of members treated for minor burns or given stitches. Only Patrick, who had been flown to a burn unit in Denver, was missing.   
  
"They say his prognosis is very good," Jason informed everyone once he was off his cell phone. "He'll be sent home in a few days and have some interesting scars to brag about."   
  
"The day I hear Patrick brag will be the day banthas fly," Luke laughed.   
  
"I got stitches!" Trapper bragged. "Who wants to see?"   
  
"No!" Leia replied quickly. "We believe you."   
  
"Three cheers to Anakin Skywalker!" declared Austin, holding up his soda can. "For bringing balance to the Force! For saving Trapper and Rachel! And for defeating the Empire! Kudos!"   
  
Anakin waved the praise away. "Without you -- all of you -- I could not have done anything against the Emperor. Without Luke, I would still be serving him. And without the help of the Elite, the FBI agents, and Lucas, I wouldn't have survived the encounter."   
  
"Fettster, how's the arm?" asked Zack.   
  
"Broken wrist bones, dislocated shoulder, and just about every major tendon and ligament either sprained or torn," Fett replied. "I'll be in this wretched cast for eight weeks."   
  
"They couldn't do a complete physical on him, the stubborn nerf herder," Liz added. "If he would have just buckled down and taken off the stupid..."   
  
"I don't remove my helmet for just anyone," Fett replied. "And besides the arm I know I'm healthy. I'm not letting some stupid medic..."   
  
"Oopsie!" Cody interrupted. "Guess who just walked in?"   
  
"The President?" asked Emily.   
  
"Nuh-uh, bigger."   
  
Marching into the cafeteria were Mon Mothma and several of the Alliance's military leaders. Piett looked as if he wished he could crawl under a table. Luke, Leia, and Han stood in respect while the Elite just stared. The nurse and patient who were sitting at a table not far away lost no time in making themselves scarce.   
  
"Lady Mothma, did you get my message..." began Piett.   
  
"You are in a great deal of trouble, Piett," Mothma told him.   
  
"But my lady, the children were in danger!" Piett protested. "I had to act..."   
  
"We'll deal with you later," she cut in. Locking eyes with Anakin, she said "Darth Vader, I place you under arrest for crimes against humanity."   
  
"Now just a fraggin' minute!" protested Austin, standing.   
  
"This isn't your business," Mothma told him.   
  
"It's every bit our business," Lucas replied. "This is taking place on our planet, so we have some say in what happens."   
  
"First off, Miss Mothma, his name's Anakin Skywalker, not Darth Vader," Darcy told the Rebel leader. "You gotta get this right, 'cause he's on the light side now..."   
  
"Skywalker?" repeated Wedge, shooting Luke a curious glance. "A relative of yours?"   
  
Luke steeled himself. "He's my father. Leia's, too."   
  
Mothma's face went white. "All this time, we've had the son and daughter of Vader in our midst..."   
  
"Mothma, I had no idea he was my father until I came here!" Leia protested. "I was in no way affiliated with him before..."   
  
"We'll disssscusssss thisssss later," Dzi interrupted. "It isssss trivial. Vader -- Anakin -- whoever he isssss mussssst come with ussssss."   
  
"But he killed the Emperor!" protested Steve. "He rescued Trapper and Rachel! He helped defeat the Empire! He should be called a hero, not a criminal!"   
  
"One day of heroism does not discount a lifetime of treachery," Ackbar replied. "He must answer for his crimes. He must be put on trial."   
  
"But..." began Luke.   
  
"Luke," Anakin told his son, "they're right. I'm afraid I must pay for my sins. It is the only way I can fully atone."   
  
"Father, they'll kill you!" Leia cried.   
  
"Or worse!" Cody gushed. "I've read the fan fics! Lots of them go into pretty graphic detail about how Anakin's punished by the Republic! Exile, execution, torture, lifetime imprisonment... you name it. This one I read, I forget the name, the Jedi step in and they strip him of the ability to use the Force! It was a nightmare!"   
  
"Oh, that's 'Of Burdens and Choices' by Clarus," Liberty replied. "That was depressing. But Cody, you're overreacting."   
  
"Who says I am?" Cody replied.   
  
"Anakin's a member of the Alliance now," Liberty said calmly. "Isn't he? He sent in a request to join. I didn't think the Rebellion would reject such a potentially valuable ally."   
  
"Normally we wouldn't," Mothma replied firmly. "But in Anakin's case, we cannot do that. If we were to allow a mass murderer in our ranks, it would be hypocrisy of the highest order."   
  
"That didn't stop you from letting the Butcher of Malastare join," Fett pointed out. "Or do you think that, since he only slaughtered Imperials, he's an exception?"   
  
Mothma's face was red now. "Come with us, Anakin," she snapped. "The trial will commence once we reach Corusant."   
  
Anakin stood and embraced Leia, then Luke. "I love you both," he told them. "I want you to know that before I go. I do not know what will happen to me once I reach the capitol, but whatever happens, nothing can separate us. We are one in the Force."   
  
The twins were in tears, but they did nothing to stop Anakin as he moved to follow the Allaince leaders.   
  
Trigger sidled up beside Luke. "Mees'n muy muy sorry, Commander. But wes'n no have a choice."   
  
Luke looked away. "I'm losing my father again, Trigger. I thought the Alliance would accept him. I thought they'd accept that he'd changed."   
  
"Wes'n can't change what people be thinkin'," Trigger replied. "Mees'n father, Senator Binks, he died when mees'n be little, and it hurt bombad. Mees'n know a little how yousa be feelin'."   
  
An angry hiss from Dzi attracted their attention.   
  
"The doors won't open!" Ackbar complained.   
  
"Commander Skywalker, let us through," ordered Mothma. "This must be done."   
  
"I'm not doing it!" Luke protested.   
  
"Don't look at me," Anakin added when Mothma glared at him.   
  
"Guys?" Mike's voice came out in a squeak.   
  
"What, Mike?" asked Sparky.   
  
"I see dead people." He pointed to the other end of the cafeteria.   
  
"Holy Hoth, what's going on here?" demanded Amethyst.   
  
Transparent, faintly glowing figures gathered a few tables down. Standing before the group was Yoda, still clutching his gimer-stick cane. Other Jedi sat in chairs or stood around the table -- Obi-wan Kenobi, Qui-gon Jinn, Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, Ki- Adi-Mundi, Coleman Trebor, Eeth Koth, Adi Gaila, Yaddle, and many others, all either former members of the Jedi Council or somehow connected to Anakin.   
  
Once all eyes were on them, Yoda rapped his cane on the floor.   
  
"Mon Mothma, good your intentions are," he told her in his distinctive gravelly voice. "But your business Skywalker's fate is not."   
  
"What do you mean?" asked Mothma. "And what are you doing here?"   
  
"It was always the policy of the Old Republic to not intervene in Jedi affairs," Ki-Adi- Mundi replied.   
  
"When a Jedi broke a law or overstepped his bounds, the Jedi Council would try and sentence him," Qui-gon explained, folding his arms. "Republic courts would only put Jedi on trial when a member of the Council had committed a crime, which was understandably rare."   
  
"So you're saying the Jedi should handle Anakin's case?" asked Sparky. "But Luke's the last Jedi."   
  
"And he's biased in favor of the accused," Mothma added. "Thus, I'm afraid the Alliance must intervene in this case."   
  
"Must intervene?" Obi-wan repeated with an amused smile. "Why do you think we're here?"   
  
"Uh, decoration?" Cody suggested.   
  
"Shut up, Cody," Diana hissed.   
  
"Jedi business this is," Yoda said sternly. "A trial we will give him. Here. Now." 


	30. On Trial

Chapter XXX - On Trial  
  
Anakin didn't know whether to be nervous or relieved that the spirits of the Jedi had taken over the trial. On one hand, Mothma had undoubtedly been out for his blood, and having the late Jedi Council take over had spared him from being executed by the Alliance. But on the other hand, who was to say the Jedi wouldn't order that done anyway? He had personally killed many of the Jedi in this room, and having his own victims be his prosecutors, judge, and jury was not a comforting thought.   
  
Rachel immediately slid off her chair and approached Yoda, ever the fearless, forward one. "Hi, Yoda!"   
  
Yoda smiled. "Hello, youngling."   
  
"You have big ears," she noted.   
  
The tiny Jedi gave soft hoots of laughter. "The better to hear you with, my dear."   
  
"Hey, you sound like the wolf on 'Little Red Riding Hood!'"   
  
"So I do," Yoda replied. "But look like him I hope I never do."   
  
She giggled.   
  
"Watching you I have been," Yoda went on. "Strong in the Force you are. A good Jedi you would make."   
  
"Really?" But her face fell. "If I became a Padawan, I couldn't see Mommy and Daddy again."   
  
"Make sacrifices all Jedi must," Yoda told her. "But your choice it must be. Choose for you no one else can."   
  
She cocked her head. "Maybe. It would be nice to be a Jedi. And maybe I could visit Mommy and Daddy for Christmas."   
  
Yoda chuckled again. "Work that out, Skywalker can. But discuss this later, we will." His expression went grave again as he motioned for Rachel to go back to her seat.   
  
Mace Windu stepped forward, serene as ever. "As the last head of the Jedi Council, I will officiate in this trial. We will now hear the case of the Rebel Alliance against Anakin Skywalker." He turned to Mothma. "Madame Mothma, as head of the Alliance, what is your charge against the accused, and what sentence do you request?"   
  
She folded her arms. "The Alliance charges Anakin Skywalker -- more commonly known as Lord Darth Vader -- with premeditated murder, genocide, manslaughter, torture, infanticide, attempted murder, kidnapping, despotism, and unnecessary use of force, no pun intended. These crimes cannot be forgiven or repaid in any manner. I ask that he be given the maximum sentence -- capital punishment, with the method of execution being decided by the survivors of his cruelty and the families of his victims."   
  
Anakin cringed. No mercy there. He only hoped that, if Mothma was truly granted her wish, that they would not use fire to execute him. He didn't think he would be able to keep his sanity in his final moments.   
  
"Does anyone have anything to add?" asked Mace.   
  
The room erupted with protests, rebuttals, and curses.   
  
"One at a time, please," ordered Shaak Ti.   
  
"He destroyed the Sith Order!" Luke cried. "Doesn't that count for something?"   
  
"He brought balance to the Force as was prophesied," Lucas added.   
  
"And he saved our daughter's life," Diana pointed out.   
  
"I'll admit, we're all biased," said Emily. "But over the Eye of the Storm we've come to know Anakin very well. He's a friend. And there's a good man under all that armor. I firmly believe it would be a more fitting punishment to have him try to repair some of the damage he did as Darth Vader."   
  
"Objection!" Ackbar protested. "There is no way to repair the damage. He cannot bring the dead back to life."   
  
"But he can apologize to those he wronged and help undo what the Empire did -- disband the Council of Moffs and reform the Imperial laws, for example," suggested Wedge.   
  
"You mean give him a position in the government?" Mothma asked incredulously. "That's not punishment, that's lunacy."   
  
"It issss an alternative if the Jedi will not allow ussss to terminate him," Dzi rasped.   
  
"Enough," Ki-Adi-Mundi ordered.   
  
Yoda nodded at Anakin. "Anakin Skywalker, how plead you?"   
  
Anakin drew himself up straight. Despite his dwarfen size, Yoda had a habit of making him feel tiny in comparison. And the Jedi Master could probably sense his fear. He struggled to put the emotion away.   
  
"I cannot, and will not, deny the charges against me. Nor can I offer a plea of insanity. I was of sound mind when I committed these acts. Therefore, I must plead guilty."   
  
Mace nodded. "Is there anything else you wish to say before we deliver a verdict?"   
  
"If I may."   
  
"Allowed."   
  
"I wish to apologize for my actions. For my role in exterminating the Jedi and for my crimes as an Imperial leader. It pains me to know I cannot repair much of the damage I wrought as Darth Vader. During that time I felt justified in what I did, because I was still in so much pain over my wife and mother. Now I know that any tragedy I suffered did not give me license to murder, torture, and oppress.   
  
"I do not expect to be totally forgiven of my crimes. There will always be beings that hate me. That's fine. They can hate me all they want. I deserve it. I only ask that my children not be victims as well." He turned toward them, beaming. "They are extraordinary young adults. Luke has become an accomplished military leader and a promising Jedi, despite my efforts to derail his training. Leia is a respected diplomat and excellent strategist. Let their accomplishments define them, not their blood. Do not let my failings damn them."   
  
The Jedi nodded and whispered among themselves.   
  
"Your apology is accepted by us, but you are still responsible for your actions," Mace told him.   
  
"I understand," Anakin replied.   
  
"Anakin Skywalker," Yoda said solemnly, "guilty we find you on all counts."   
  
Darcy burst into noisy tears. Rachel clung tightly to Anakin's leg. Luke seemed to collapse upon himself as he cradled his head in his hands, while Leia hugged Han and silently wept.   
  
"He killed the worst tyrant this galaxy's ever seen and he's STILL found guilty?!" shrieked Zack.   
  
"Put a cork in it," snapped Jason.   
  
"Thank you, Master Yoda," Mothma said with a slight smile. "Now, Mr. Skywalker, if you will come with us, we'll see to your sentence..."   
  
"Sentence him we will," Yoda said firmly.   
  
She frowned, obviously not happy that the punishment was also out of her hands, then bowed politely. "Yes, Master Jedi."   
  
Anakin realized his hands were trembling. He clutched them together to prevent his tremors from being noticed.   
  
"Your sentence..." began Mace Windu.   
  
Someone sobbed loudly while someone else hissed at their table mate to let go of their hand before they broke something.   
  
"...effective immediately..."   
  
The crowd held its collective breath.   
  
"...is banishment to the Earth system for a period of five standard years."   
  
Anakin blinked, surprised. Had he heard correctly?   
  
"During this time, you may not, under any circumstances save a system-wide evacuation, leave Area 51. You may receive friend and family visits from beyond this system, which will be limited to your children, any children or spouses which they may have in the future, and any non-family that is currently in this room. Immediately after your sentence is completed, you will serve a life sentence of servitude to the Jedi Order, where you will help your son train Jedi and rebuild the Order you destroyed."   
  
"That more fully aid the Order you may," Yoda added, "bestow upon you the title of Jedi Knight we do." He gave an amused smile. "That your second attempt at being a Jedi is successful let us hope."   
  
There was a loud thunk as Mike passed out.   
  
"What?!" protested Mothma. "That's no punishment!"   
  
"Mothma, you wanted a punishment that would fit the crime," Qui-gon said. "We have decided it would be more fitting to have him rebuild the Order than to kill him."   
  
"He's done far more than simply decimate the Order," she retorted.   
  
"Aware of that we are," Yoda replied. "But repentant he is. Another chance we will give him."   
  
"But he's a murderer!" she cried.   
  
"Oh, freeze up!" Amethyst snapped. "I wouldn't be back-talking to the Jedi Council if I were you, sister!"   
  
"Who are we to question the Jedi?" Ackbar added. "I think the penalty is far too light myself, but I must admit that it is at least partially fair."   
  
"If Masssster Yoda decreessss it, I'll not quesssstion," Dzi hissed. "I ssssuggesssst you do the ssssame, Mothma."   
  
Mothma opened her mouth to protest, then subsided, though she still looked angry about the decision.   
  
"Luke," Yoda said, hobbling forward, "easy this task will not be, but fall on you it does. More apprentices you must find. Train more Jedi you must."   
  
"Yes, Master Yoda," Luke replied.   
  
"And you!" He turned to Anakin and rapped his helmet sharply with his cane. "Mind yourself you will. If fall again you do, as lenient we will not be."   
  
"Understood, Master Yoda."   
  
"Uh, before you guys go, can I ask a question?" Steve requested.   
  
"I believe you already have," Ki-Adi-Mundi replied with a rare instance of Jedi humor. "But you may ask another."   
  
"How did Lucas know? About all this, I mean." He swept his hand to indicate the Rebel leaders, the Skywalker family, and the Jedi spirits. "Except 'Jedi,' of course, but still! It doesn't seem right that he would know so many of the details, all the way down to the wrinkles on Master Yoda's face. No offense meant, by the way."   
  
"None taken," Yoda said with a grin. "But when nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not."   
  
Steve chuckled. "Guess not."   
  
Qui-gon smiled smugly. "A good question, Mr. Durrant, but not one easily answered." He nodded at Anakin. "When I first met Anakin, I knew him to be the Chosen One, even if he and others would not accept it. The Force finds a way to balance itself, despite the actions of the living. And it found ways to ensure the balance would be found. Luke and Leia's birth, for example, was instrumental, for without his children to urge him back to the light, Anakin would never have rejoined us."   
  
"What's that got to do with..." began Liz.   
  
"Patience, Mrs. Djedovich," Obi-wan ordered. "Your planet turned out to be a necessary tool for working that balance as well. Consider a moment. If you had been ignorant as to the goings-on in the rest of the galaxy, what would have happened to Luke, Vader, and Fett?"   
  
Cody's eyes went wide. "We would have thought them to be aliens and captured them!" he gushed. "And while we were doing experiments on them, the Emperor would be crushing the Alliance! So by the time they escaped and made it back to Imperial space, there wouldn't be any hope of overthrowing the Empire."   
  
Obi-wan chuckled. "That wasn't what I had in mind, but that's one scenario."   
  
"Or the three of them would have just up and found a way off the planet," Liberty added. "Without the mystery of the movies to keep them occupied here, they might have gone back to the Emperor before Anakin had turned. Luke would have either died or gone to the dark side, and unless Leia had found a way to develop her Jedi powers, the galaxy would still be in the clutches of the Empire."   
  
"So all those sequels weren't a money-making scam like the critics say," Li marveled. "They were necessary to bring balance to the Force."   
  
Lucas was looking rather pale behind his beard. "I never thought my work would save the galaxy."   
  
"Don't think too long on it," Obi-wan advised. "Or it will frighten you away from making more of your wonderful projects. You have a great mind. Put it to good use."   
  
"Yo, what's up, are the aliens here?" someone asked, barging into the cafeteria at that moment. It was Adam Cage, Master of Ceremonies for the two conventions. "Oops, am I here at a bad time?"   
  
"One moment, and we'll be through," Obi-wan told him.   
  
"May the Force be with you," Mace Windu told everyone, and most of the Jedi disappeared, leaving only Qui-gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi.   
  
"I'm proud of you, Anakin, for fulfilling the prophecy," Qui-gon said with a gentle smile.   
  
"As am I, my young Padawan," Obi-wan added.   
  
Anakin looked down at the floor. "I shamed you both. You were counting on me..."   
  
"And you didn't disappoint," Obi-wan said gently. "You brought balance, Anakin. Not as quickly as some would have liked, but it all turned out well in the end."   
  
"Master? Will I ever see you again?"   
  
"On the other side, my Padawan. May the Force be with you, Anakin. And with you, Luke. I know the Jedi Order is in good hands."   
  
"Goodbye," Luke murmured as the two Jedi faded away.   
  
"Freaky," noted Cage. "Um, can I..."   
  
"Do what you came here to do," ordered Ackbar.   
  
"Thanks!" He grinned at Austin. "Mr. Powers, you and your friends are heroes! Congratulations!"   
  
The fans beamed.   
  
"But it is partially your fault we lost our convention center. So I was thinking..."   
  
"Don't tell me we have to pay for it," moaned Emily.   
  
"You break it, you buy it," Sparky pointed out.   
  
"Actually, we've had a sizable anonymous donation that's mostly taken care of costs," Cage replied. "Our donor wrote a check slated for reconstruction of the center on the condition that her identity be kept secret. I promised Melissa Greenwood I wouldn't tell a... damn!"   
  
Austin and Trapper exchanged shocked looks.   
  
"Well, I guess that's blown, but I don't think she'll have a fit over it," Cage went on. "But believe it or not, the check doesn't quite cover the costs of rebuilding. So I was wondering if anyone here had suggestions."   
  
"The Alliance can donate tools and labor," Wedge suggested. "With our modern building techniques, you can have a solid new convention center in a matter of months."   
  
"Rogue Squadron be muy happy to be helpin'," Trigger added.   
  
"And if costs run over Mrs. Greenwood's donation, Lucasfilm will foot the remaining bills," Lucas said with a smile.   
  
Cage clapped his hands. "Terrific! That's settled! With a little luck we can get our hangout rebuilt by next Stellar-Con!" He shot Mothma a huge grin, but her stern return look wilted the friendly gesture. "Okay, so I guess I'll go out and tell the Stargeeks we'll refund their money and they'd better pack up and go home."   
  
"Don't cancel Nova-Con!" protested Cody.   
  
"We've all been looking forward to it," Diana added.   
  
"I know, but we're lacking a venue," Cage pointed out. "There's no place around here big enough to house twenty-thousand-plus rabid fans."   
  
"The Executor," Piett suggested.   
  
"Excuse me?" demanded Wedge.   
  
"The Executor," Piett went on. "It's an Alliance ship now. There are several chambers aboard that should suffice. And our shuttles can transport celebrants from the ship to the planet."   
  
"You're serious?" gaped Brigham. "We can have Nova-Con on a Stardestroyer?"   
  
"I don't see why not," Anakin replied.   
  
Mothma didn't seem to like this idea, but she only nodded. "If it will build good relations with Earth..."   
  
"Oh it will!" Cage assured her. "We got freaks from France, Germany, Australia, Great Britain, Japan, Russia, Mexico, Canada, Ireland..."   
  
A man in obviously Secret-Service-ish attire entered the cafeteria. "Mrs. Mothma? The President of the United States of America is at City Hall right now. He'd like to see you."   
  
"Excuse me," Mothma told everyone. "I must speak with your country's leader and offer a greeting to the... er... Stargeeks."   
  
"Oh, can I give you a quick pointer on Earth etiquette?" Darcy asked.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"When you're talking to the fans, don't forget to do this." She demonstrated. "This gesture is a symbol of goodwill, and doing it will ensure respect toward you. In fact, do it as often as possible or they'll think you're pretty rude."   
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Akers," Mothma replied before the Alliance leaders departed.   
  
Darcy covered her mouth to keep from laughing.   
  
"Darcy, you just told her to give the Trekkie 'live long and prosper' sign to Star Wars fanatics," Jason said in disbelief.   
  
"I know," she squealed, unable to hold back the giggles anymore.   
  
"Symbol of goodwill, my eye!" Han laughed.   
  
"That was harsh," Leia noted, though she wore an amused smile.   
  
"Hey, she started it," Darcy defended. 


	31. NovaCon

Chapter XXXI - Nova-Con

As usual, Mr. Cage was late in starting Nova-Con. As usual, the crowd hissed and booed as he droned on and on in a windy opening speech about how marvelous it was that their beloved movies had turned out to be mostly factual. As usual, he received a standing ovation when he finished -- actually, because he finished. 

Unusually, Stargeeks weren't the only ones in attendance. Rebel leaders and soldiers, Imperials who had pledged their loyalty to the Alliance, world leaders, and Star Wars celebrities were in attendance too. And instead of singing the United States national anthem, Liberty and her old band Cloning Luke performed "The Saga Begins" to everyone's intense amusement.

It was an amusing sight, Luke thought, to see so many odd personalities mixing. The British Prime Minister was requesting James Earl Jones' autograph. Two female scouttroopers were giggling as Fett used the U.S. President's back as a desk to sign a poster for Steve Sansweet. While Liberty's band played a vast variety of songs, fans danced and generally carried on. Some of the dancing couples were oddly paired -- John Williams and Mon Mothma, Ewan McGregor and Darcy, a Darth Vader impersonator and Trigger, an Aurra Sing wannabe and Luke Skywalker.

Brigham leaned over to whisper in Luke's ear. "Man, look at your dad! I'm sooooo envious!"

He looked to see him engaged in a slow dance with a woman who closely resembled his mother. "What do you mean?"

"That's Natalie Portman! You know how many men would bend over backwards to dance with her?"

"Oh, don't be so jealous, Brig," Emily told him. "She's not your type anyway. Heck, she isn't even Mormon."

"Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?" Brigham protested.

"Lusting in your heart, Brigham?" a familiar-looking Rebel pilot asked.

"Shut up, Ezekial!"

"Make me!"

Before the two could come to blows, Chewbacca happened on the scene. He took one look at Ezekial, grunted calmly, and picked him up. He shrieked in fear as the Wookie carried him away.

"Man, Chewie, I love you!" Brigham shouted after him.

Luke laughed. 

Anakin approached at that moment, thanking Natalie profusely for the dance. She told him no problem, then went off to talk to Hayden Christiansen.

"There you are, Luke," he said, coming to stand beside him. "Mark Hamill told me he wanted a word with you."

"Well, where is he?"

He chuckled. "Playing Stratego with Trapper."

"Setting himself up for a fall, is he?"

Anakin's shoulders shook with his amused laughter. "Oh Luke, look at all these people. Who would have thought that we would affect a planet in such a way? Who would have thought that we had such a following? It still amazes me."

"The will of the Force is a funny thing," Luke replied.

His father nodded slowly. "Do you really think I'll make a good Jedi Master, Luke?"

"Of course. Why, are you having self-doubts?"

"Well, what apprentice is going to want to learn from a former Sith?" 

"Maybe an Earth native," Luke quipped. "Seriously, Father, I don't think it's much of a problem. Because you've seen firsthand what harm the dark side can do, you have that much more power in deterring your students from it. And besides, now that news of your past has leaked to the galaxy at large, you're legendary as the last Jedi of the old Order. I've had over a dozen families contact me already, asking if their children are Jedi hopefuls and wanting you to train them. And only two of those families were from Area 51."

There was a crash as Mike, trying to execute a break dance maneuver, went flying into an action figure display.

"I remember what you said at the beginning of this ordeal," Luke said. "About how, as we grow up, we learn that what we saw as black and white is actually gray. Now I realize that the universe is as black and white as I first thought."

"Yes," Anakin replied. "I've seen that too. There are only two powers -- black and white. Only people and things are gray."

He reached out and took Luke's hand. "I'm very proud of you, my son, for becoming the young man I once wanted to be. Thank you for recognizing the conflict in this tired old man, even though he denied it. And thank you for giving me another chance."

"What else could I do? I loved you too much to let you fall deeper into darkness." He winked. "And as you say, Jedi are encouraged to love."

Anakin laughed. "From a certain point of view."

"And many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our point of view."

Their laughter drowned out Amethyst's shrieks and curses as she chased Cody past. The sandtrooper wannabe was laughing his head off as he continued to sing numbers from "The Sound of Music."

_Break…_

By the time the Millennium Falcon touched back down in its meadow, next to the Slave and the two starfighters, the Elite was pretty partied out. Nevertheless, they had no desire to go back to their homeworld. For that meant leaving their newfound friends, and with the current chaotic state of the galaxy, there was no guarantee that they would see any of them again -- except Anakin, of course.

"I'll tell you one thing, I'm glad I won't have to sign any more autographs," Han grumbled. "I had writer's cramp by morning of the second day."

"And I'll have to put up with autograph-seekers for the next four years three-hundred- sixty-two days," Anakin replied as he hefted a suitcase. "Perhaps the Jedi's sentence isn't as lenient as I first thought."

"Eh, it could have been worse," Jason pointed out. "At least you'll only have to deal with rabid Stargeeks and not rabid gundarks."

Anakin laughed.

"Want me to help you with that?" Conrad asked, grabbing one end of the suitcase. 

"I'll manage it," he replied. "I need to preserve what dignity I have left."

"Dignity has no place with the Elite!" exclaimed Cody. "Boy, I'll tell ya, I thought the Sons of the Sith were gonna commit mass suicide when they realized it was the Alliance that came to Earth and not the Empire."

"They're either hoping the other shoe will drop soon or they're too buzzed to give a rip," Steve said as he helped Liberty wrestle her guitar case out of its compartment.

The Elite disembarked and congregated at the base of the loading ramp to say their goodbyes. Fett was the first to go, thanking Jason and Patrick and embracing Liz tenderly before heading for the Slave. 

"Was that a kiss I saw you blow him?" teased Emily. 

"Bite me," she snapped.

Anakin embraced first Leia, then Luke. "I'm so proud of you both. I'll miss you dearly. Your mother would have been very pleased with you both." 

"We'll visit often," Leia promised.

Austin shook hands with Luke. "Been a real pleasure having you stay with us, Luke. You take care."

Trapper hugged Luke. "I'll miss you!"

"I'll miss you too, Mini-V," Luke replied.

Trapper pressed something into his hand. "I want you to keep this."

"Your Battle Action Reek? I can't take this..."

"Please? To remember me by?" 

He smiled and ran a hand over the plastic creature's back. "Thanks. I don't need it to remember you, but I'll give it a place of honor."

"Many thanks, Mr. Solo," Sparky told Han. "I enjoyed the ride in your ship's cockpit immensely. Thank you for helping me live my dream."

"Look into a career in the freighting service sometime," Han suggested. "You don't need your feet to drive a starship." 

"I'll think about it," Sparky replied.

"We'll miss you!" Jason exclaimed, slapping Han and Chewie on the shoulders.

"Very much," added Patrick. "Chewie, take care of this yahoo for us."

Artoo crooned sadly as Steve patted his dome.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too," Steve replied. "Watch over Threepio, okay? He's gonna need all the help he can get."

Artoo gave his version of a laugh. Threepio, who had been left behind during the assault on the Executor, had been discovered by hikers in the White Deer National Forest just the day before. He was now sporting several new dents courtesy of a mountain lion and more paranoid than ever, if such were possible.

"I don't want you to go!" screamed Rachel, throwing her arms around Leia's legs. "You guys are the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

"Hey, honey," Leia said gently, pulling the girl's arms apart. "We'll be back. I promise. Goodbyes aren't forever."

"We want to thank you for saving her," Conrad said gratefully. "It means much more than you can know."

"And Luke," Diana added, "if you want her to be your apprentice, we wouldn't object so long as she could visit."

"I had hoped to make it so Padawans could maintain regular contact with their family," Luke replied. "Give me a few months to prepare a training center, then we'll see to her training."

Zack blew his nose on a corner of his Count Dooku robes. "This has been a Stargeek's paradise, man!" he sobbed. "Come back next year, won't ya?"

"Wouldn't miss it," replied Han, rolling his eyes.

Liberty stepped forward and placed a silver medallion around Luke's neck.

"Remember at the beginning of the summer, when you inquired about your Zodiac sign? Well, I figured it out. You and your sister, by some twist of fate, were born under the star sign of Gemini, the Twins." She chuckled. "Your father is Leo, the Lion, in case you were wondering, and your mother Capricorn, the Sea-Goat."

Austin noisily suppressed a sarcastic laugh, and Emily socked him.

"May the Force be with you," Liberty said, bowing.

"Bye all," murmured Liz before turning up her "Santana" CD and zoning out.

"Typical," grunted Amethyst. "Well, Leia, its been a real treat playing hostess to you. Hope to see you again soon."

"Come back soon, y'all hear?" Emily ordered.

"Thanks for everything, man!" Cody cried, nearly knocking Han over with an enthusiastic hug.

"Be sure to write," Darcy said. "Or call, or whatever it is you do out there. I guess you could use the Holonet, but we don't have that, so maybe you could e-mail us, but then, you don't have that do you? Droid-courier works, it worked with Kenobi, but whatever you think is best..."

"Darcy, shut up!" Brigham ordered.

Mike made his way up the ramp to say goodbye, but he slipped and fell off the side. Han jumped down to make sure he was okay, and once it was certain he'd taken no hurt everyone shared a laugh.

"Bye," Mike said sheepishly, waving before rejoining the crowd.

Luke nodded to the Elite. "I promise you we'll be back. And I also promise you that, from this day forward, Earth will not be ignored by the rest of the galaxy. The Republic will be enriched by Earth's many cultures, and Earth will benefit greatly from our technology. Perhaps those benefits won't be felt by you yet, but they will greatly influence future generations. Your children will reap tomorrow what you sow today." 

"Beautiful," murmured Austin. "You're already a Jedi philosopher, Luke."

Brigham's voice, a clear sweet baritone, floated through the air, bidding their friends farewell through song.

"'God be with you 'til we meet again, by his counsel's guide uphold you, with his sheep securely fold you, God be with you 'til we meet again...'"

Luke blinked back tears and swallowed the lump in his throat, then turned and boarded the Falcon before he could get too weepy. With a hiss of hydraulics the ramp lifted. Finally, the freighter rose and began to arc skyward, drawing the X-wing up with its tractor beam and carrying it beneath its belly as it departed.

On the ground, Rachel wriggled out of her mother's grasp and ran after the ship, Trapper close behind.

As Han brought the ship around to make the ascent out of the atmosphere, those aboard could see the two children standing atop a small hill, arms waving and mouths open as they hollered goodbye. Anakin climbed up to stand with them, and he, too, raised a hand in farewell.

/Your children will reap tomorrow what you sow today./

That was so true -- in more ways than one.

"Thanks, Father," Luke murmured. "For everything."


	32. Epilogue and Credits

Chapter XXXII - Epilogue  
  
(One year later)   
  
"I can't do this!" Austin exclaimed, turning and attempting to leave.   
  
"You're doing it, Austin," ordered Anakin, holding an arm out to bar him from leaving. "You've gone this far. You can't get cold feet now."   
  
"Sorry," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I'm just jittery."   
  
"Marriage is a big step," Anakin told him. "Especially a second marriage. But relax. You're a wiser man now and should know how to avoid making the same mistakes this time."   
  
"Sure, he's got the experience," Han grumped as he tried to keep his unruly brown hair from sticking up in the back. "I'm doing this for the first time."   
  
Anakin chuckled. "You'll do fine, Han."   
  
The three men occupied the men's restroom in the recreational area of White Deer Lake, preparing for a lakeside double wedding. It had been Leia's idea, since her parents had married on the shores of a lake on Naboo. And everyone had approved of a Star Wars themed wedding for obvious reasons. After the nuptials, the guests would change into casual attire and have an odd reception -- a barbecue, in true Vader's Elite fashion.   
  
"Ready, Austin?" asked Han.   
  
"Ready as I'm gonna be," Austin answered, donning his freshly waxed Vader helmet.   
  
They walked outside. The guests had already assembled, with the Elite and various Star Wars celebrities gathered on one side, Alliance leaders and other offworld visitors on the other. The summer sun glinted off the surface of the lake as if it were liquid crystal. Luke stood near the shore in his black Jedi attire, and Austin and Han nervously went to stand on either side of him.   
  
Anakin went to join the others in the bridal party, chuckling to himself. How much things could change in one year. He, once an almighty Sith Lord, now lived in an apartment complex in Star City and had purchased an auto repair business, with Patrick and Jason working as employees there, and he spent his spare time restoring a red '66 Corvette. Life was good to him.   
  
The Alliance had been true to its word, aiding in the construction of a beautiful new convention center. A chrome-plated cylindrical building with five spires arranged around its roof like a crown, it was Star City's pride and joy and would host Stellar-Con tomorrow. But the Alliance hadn't stopped there -- they had also established spaceports in four of Earth's major cities. New York City, Tokyo, London, and Berlin were now thriving spaceport cities, and a fifth port was in progress in Sydney. Earth was adapting rather well to intergalactic life for a planet isolated for so long. And the Star Wars movies had gained a galaxy-wide cult following, being hailed as a "dramatized history" of the rise and fall of the Empire and "Return of the Jedi's" altered ending being blamed on "creative license."   
  
The Elite was still as wild as ever, though they, too, had undergone some changes. Three of their members had left, one temporarily, two permanently. Zack had dropped out to start his own fan club, Tattoo Detoo. It reached a grand total of five members before folding a month later, and Zack ended up rejoining the Elite. Sparky had quit in order to free up more time for his new full-time career as a space trucker for Incom Starfighter, and Rachel was now merely considered an honorary member, though she did take breaks from her Jedi training to visit her parents and extended family.   
  
Austin was still working for the newspaper and heading the Elite, and Trapper had lost none of his spunk. Evidently the entire kidnapping incident had smoothed over some of the rough areas in Melissa's relationship with Austin, because the boy was visiting more often now.   
  
A month after the attack on Earth, Liz had left quite suddenly, citing a family emergency as the cause of her departure. She came back a month later wearing a Malastarian blood sapphire the size of a strawberry. Apparently Boba Fett, who had amassed quite a fortune over the years, had taken her to Kamino, where the two had eloped in a private ceremony officiated by Laama Su. Then the two of them had taken a lavish honeymoon around the galaxy.   
  
Steve had gotten a job as a technician for a droid manufacturing firm that was setting up a factory on Earth. Emily was pursuing a degree in alien biology at an interstellar online college, while Darcy served as a spokeswoman for the Elite and had appeared on several holographic talk shows. Mike, meanwhile, met the girl of his dreams on the Holonet and was currently dating her. The problem -- he was human, she was Rodian. But no one discouraged him; indeed, it was about time he got lucky with a woman of any species.   
  
Liberty still worked at her bookstore, which was seeing better days now. Brigham's desire to spread his religion hadn't ceased, and he now served as the president of the LDS Interstellar Mission Program. As for Amethyst and Cody, they had done the unthinkable. They had gotten married. In Brigham's words, "Those two? Whoda thunk?"   
  
Conrad and Diana were immensely proud of their little Padawan, Earth's first contribution to the Jedi Order and Luke Skywalker's first apprentice. Meanwhile, the Churches were expecting another child, due the week after Nova-Con.   
  
As if this weren't enough, the Elite had recruited three new members -- Tina Williams, Gregory Skinner, and Opal Patten. Tina, a daredevil and extreme sports enthusiast, dressed as Aurra Sing and had taken over Sparky's position as second-in-command. She had a real flair for the adventurous and a take-no-prisoners attitude toward life.   
  
Gregory, who wore a Royal Guard costume, was an insomniac and workaholic who threw himself full-force into whatever project he was currently working on. A longtime friend of Zack's, he had joined at his pal's urging and was proving to be an invaluable addition to their numbers. He was suffering a bit of culture shock, having lived all his life in San Francisco before moving to Star City, but he was adjusting to small-city life fairly well.   
  
Opal preferred the garb of a desert-gear clonetrooper and was a shy, poetic type who aspired to be a novelist someday. Native to Boise, Idaho, she lived in the same apartment building that Anakin did and was helping him write his memoirs for publication. That she was even at the wedding was a wonder -- she was a homebody whose preference for solitude bordered on agoraphobic.   
  
At a signal from Luke, Cody turned on the speaker system and cued up the "Star Wars Main Theme" in lieu of a wedding march. Down a strip of red carpet that had been laid on the grass came the flower-girl and flower-droid -- Rachel and Artoo. Rachel wore her Padawan robes and carried her freshly washed Mori and a bouquet of lilies, while Artoo had been polished to a high sheen and had a freshly-cut Nubian flowering vine wrapped around his dome. Their walk down the aisle became a race when Artoo began to edge ahead, then Rachel, and the two of them ran/wheeled the rest of the way down the aisle, giggling and beeping the whole way.   
  
Next came the ring-bearers, Trapper and Chewbacca. Trapper's Vader armor had been spit-shined with Marine precision, and Chewie's fur looked silky from its recent shampoo. It was an amusing sight to see the Wookie stride confidently ahead, with Trapper trying desperately to keep up and not drop the rings at the same time.   
  
Leia's matron of honor, Mon Mothma, and Han's best man, Lando Calrissian, looked as classy as ever as they walked arm-in-arm down the aisle. Beside them, Liberty's "snowtrooper of honor," Emily, held Sparky's hand as Steve pushed the older man's wheelchair. As Austin's best man, Sparky had donned his old Admiral costume for the occasion.   
  
"Father, are you ready?" Leia asked. She wore a white dress that was nearly identical to the one she had worn while giving Luke and Han their medals for destroying the first Death Star. Anakin's eyes filled as he extended an arm to escort his daughter to her soon- to-be husband.   
  
Liberty's father, an elven man with shoulder-length gray hair and an enormous grin, was dwarfed by his abnormally tall daughter, but he didn't seem to mind in the least. The "Lady Vader" stepped forward to match Leia's stride, and the two women made their way to the shore, where Luke waited.   
  
The ceremony was quick and simple, over in a few minutes. Han and Leia Solo and Austin and Liberty Powers exchanged kisses, and the guests proceeded to depart in order to change into more casual attire.   
  
"Ever been to a wedding where the reception was a barbecue?" asked Jason.   
  
Christopher Lee chuckled. "No. And I've never been to a barbecue where champagne was served." He poured himself a glass, then filled a second and extended it to Chewbacca, who was currently raiding the macaroni salad. "Care for a drink, good friend?"   
  
Chewie eyed the glass, barked, picked up the champagne bottle, took a swig from it, and walked off still carrying the bottle. The actor stared a moment after the Wookie, then raised his glass in a toast and called "Cheers!"   
  
Liberty prepared to throw her bouquet, an Earth tradition in which whichever single woman caught it would supposedly be the next one to marry. But Liberty tossed it a bit too hard, and it caught in the branches of a locust tree. Tina immediately climbed up and shook the branches until the bouquet fell into Emily's arms. Emily promptly yelped and hurled the flowers away, and Natalie Portman ended up catching them.   
  
Leia, too, took a turn at the tradition, and she, too, ended up throwing the bouquet too hard. It was a startled Luke who ended up catching the flowers on his plate as he was preparing a hot dog bun.   
  
Meanwhile, Cody was manning the DJ table and playing one love song after another, while other guests danced, swam in the lake, or rode out on the water in one of the three motorboats a guest had provided. One was towing a water-skiing stormtrooper, while another pulled a wakeboard with an ecstatic Brigham on board.   
  
Anakin chuckled as he paced the boat dock, watching the proceedings. His own wedding day had been a private, clandestine affair, with only him, Padme, the droids, and a Naboo holy man in attendance. It would have been nice to have a large gathering like this. But he had few regrets about that day.   
  
"We would be living a lie," Padme had warned him. "It would destroy us." And she had been right. His illicit marriage to her had hastened his fall to the dark side. But he did not regret their wedding day in the least, for if he hadn't married Padme, he would never have had his children. And his fall to the dark side, though it had been a horrible experience, had been instrumental in bringing balance to the Force. All had worked out eventually through the will of the Force, and he was grateful for that.   
  
His one regret was that Padme could not be here to watch her daughter get married. But he could feel her spirit near, beaming. She, like him, was happy for their child. Anakin closed his eyes and basked in the feel of her radiance. One day, they would be together again in the Force, never to be separated. But for now, he had friends and family that he wished to remain with.   
  
"Hey Anakin!" Harrison Ford shouted. "Care for a boat ride?"   
  
He turned to Opal. "Care to join me?"   
  
"Huh? Oh sure," she replied.   
  
They stepped aboard, and the vehicle tore across the water in a flurry of white spray.   
  
The End   
  
Credits:   
  
Thanks to my brother Keegan for inspiration and input, to the Luke/Vader writers for putting up with my madness, and to my mom for use of a computer and tolerating my obsession.   
  
Star Wars, of course, belongs to George Lucas.   
  
The song lyrics in "Chapter VI -- Introductions" come from the song "The Sound of Music" from the musical by the same name by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein.   
  
The song lyrics in "Chapter VII -- Different Paths" come from the song "A Spoonful of Sugar" from the movie "Mary Poppins."   
  
The scriptural quote in "Chapter VIII -- Crash Course" is based on "Moses 1:33" in the LDS scriptural book "Pearl of Great Price."   
  
I don't know if there really is a Paris France Outpost in the Fighting 501st fanclub. If there is, they probably aren't anything like their counterparts in "Chapter X -- Aggressive Negotiations."   
  
The love-song quotes in "Chapter XVI -- Family Matters" are based on Ewan McGregor's quote in "Moulin Rogue." Cody's advice to Fett in the same chapter is based on a quote from the book "Gadianton Robbers and the Silver Sword" by Chris Heimerdinger.   
  
The song lyrics in "Chapter XVII -- The Falcon Has Landed" come from the song "God Bless the USA" by Lee Greenwood.   
  
Vader's recitation of his crimes and Steve and Amethyst's replies in "Chapter XXIII -- Awakening Anakin" are based on a quote by Milo (voiced by Michael J. Fox) from the movie "Atlantis: The Lost Empire."   
  
Sergeant TK-259's number comes from a gospel a cappella group from Salt Lake City, Utah named Two Five Nine. TK-577's number is the month and year the first Star Wars movie came out. No significance behind TK-688's number.   
  
The conversation between Sparky and the gamer in "Chapter XXVI -- The Empire Attacks" is based on an actual experience between my brother and a line-sitter in an Episode I ticket campout line.   
  
The song "The Melody Within" in "Chapter XXXI -- Nova-Con" was written by Michael McLean, Kurt Bestor, and Sam Cardon and was included in the movie "Rigoletto" and the album "Michael McLean -- The Collection Volume II." The song Brigham sings is titled "God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again" and was written by Jeremiah Rankin and William Tomer.   
  
Chapter quotes come from their cited sources and are accurate to the best of my knowledge.   
  
The persons featured are fictional except for George Lucas and any other mentioned Star Wars celebrities. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.   
  
Star City, Stellar-Con, Nova-Con, White Deer National Park, and White Deer Lake are fictional locations/events and any resemblance they bear to any actual place/event is also coincidental.   
  
Is anyone actually reading this? 


End file.
